No One Can Make It Alone Anymore
by Phoenyx634
Summary: Romance with Daryl and my own character :) There's an instant attraction, but then inexperience, awkwardness... and some other problems get in the way! Daryl meets his match in Sarah- a character almost as epic as he is. In a world where anyone could die, will this romance end in tragedy or new hope? M for language, violence and (minor) romantic scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers, this is my first attempt at a TWD fanfic **

**I have a grand scheme in mind, but may decide to bring in some characters from different series in and make it a cross-over at some point... Hm, not quite sure yet. Please review and maybe give me some ideas, I want to have fun with this!**

**For the moment, it's going to be Daryl/ OC romance, and will be following the t.v. series as closely as possible, since I love where the series is going with Daryl's character. For that reason, don't expect a fast-developing romance! Also I feel that many fanfics have focussed too much on how HAWT Daryl is (though of course I agree whole-heartedly) and have actually limited his badassery. He ain't all "hearts-n-flowers", people! I'm bringing back the grit.**

**Note: I won't be rewriting the script/ events, but rather be filling in the time gaps with extra scenes. So I hope you're all familiar with the main storyline. I'm going to try to stick to the tone of the series as much as poss so you peeps can feel like it's an extension of the series, not a **_**complete**_** recreation :D Enjoy and PLEASE review whether you like/hate/had something interesting for breakfast!**

**CHAPTER 1**

The first time Daryl saw her was on one of his hunts.

He was alone, in the woods surrounding Herschel's farm. Since the incident with Sofia coming out of the barn, he'd felt the need to get away from the group, to deal with things in his own way. He preferred the silence of the woods, as he tracked game and tried not to think about what had happened only three days ago.

He'd set out early that morning, before anyone else had risen (aside from Dale, keeping a vigil on the RV), and had covered a lot of ground since then. It was almost midday, and he was about as far from the farm as he had ever been on a day's hunt. He'd crouched down to have a break and refill his water bottle at the bank of a stream. After he had rested, he planned to begin the long trek back. He should be back at the farm before dark, even if he took his time. He had only five squirrels to show for the whole half-day's hunting. It seemed like all the bigger game had vacated the area for some reason, which was ominous. He trailed his fingers in the water leisurely, disturbing his reflection. He mused that he looked like he'd aged since three days ago. The ever-present frown played over his face as his thoughts turned dark again. He was just about to rise and start moving again, when he heard movement. Something was approaching through the trees. Ever the hunter, he grabbed his crossbow with one hand and searched for the source of the noise with sharp blue eyes.

She emerged out of the trees on a ridge parallel to the stream, about ten metres away from him, striding purposefully but also quietly. She was watchful, but hadn't seen him yet. She walked with her right hand rested lightly on a holstered gun. He froze at first, conscious that any sudden moves would likely draw her gaze, then slowly leaned back behind a bush, screening himself from view.

He rested his crossbow on the ground between his knees and peered through the leaves. She was quite tall, tanned and slender... _lean_ was the best word to describe her. The leanness which comes from sparse meals, little rest and constant travelling on foot. She wasn't classically beautiful, but Daryl found her bearing and expression to be somehow striking. She looked capable of taking care of herself. It was hard to tell her age, but he estimated late twenties, to early thirties. Her light brown hair was tied in a no-nonsense knot at the back of her head, which turned often to the left and the right as she scanned her surroundings carefully. She walked with a type of muscular grace, like she was ready to break into sprint at a moment's notice. She wore a plain black tank top and cargo pants tucked into mud-stained, knee-high, lace-up leather boots. Around her forearms she'd taped what looked like hockey shin-guards, as clever protection against walkers in close combat. On her hands she wore fingerless leather riding gloves. Other than the gun on her belt, on her battered backpack she had attached a sheath, inside which was what looked like a long, curved, machete-like blade that had seen quite a bit of use. Alongside this, also attached to the back of the backpack, was a smallish, blood-splattered metal shield that tapered to a sharp point at one end.

Daryl's sharp eyes took in all of this as she passed his location. Moments later, she was gone, melted into the trees. He could hear her light steps fading away in the fallen dead leaves of the forest. He stood up, looking after her, and bit his lip. She was heading away from the farm- she wasn't a threat... or an ally. He should just ignore her and head back. But he was also curious- Where was she going? Was she alone? She was lean, certainly, but not starved. He dithered for a few moments longer, and then decided to follow her for a while, just for the hell of it. If she didn't show any signs of meeting up with a group... or turning back towards the farm... then he would give up and return to the farm in time for supper, alone.

It was easy to follow her tracks, and he caught up with her enough that she was just within sight. Every so often she would cast a glance around, and he would duck behind a tree or crouch down out of the line of sight. Daryl got a kind of primal thrill from the challenge of following her. It was the ultimate test of a hunter, to stalk quarry that was as just smart and as cautious as you were, in rough terrain. It was also a welcome distraction from all the recent heartache and anxiety. For the first time in a long time, he was not thinking about Rick gunning down Sofia in front of the barn, while Carol's world collapsed as she cried in his arms. He was thinking about the volume of his footsteps, anticipating her movements and copying her pauses. He was absorbed by the mysterious girl in the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

**Damn, Daryl's a stalker! Well, it's an apocalyptic scenario, I guess it's allowed eh? He could stalk me any day. Enjoy and REVIEW! :D**

**CHAPTER 2**

The woman walked with long, sure strides, but from her general bearing, Daryl thought that she hadn't been in this area before. His hypothesis was confirmed when she stopped, glanced about (Daryl got out of sight just in time) and got out a ragged-looking map from her bag, and a small compass. She spent a couple of minutes poring over it with a frown, turning the map around a few times. Daryl watched her with interest. From the level of frustration growing on her face, she didn't seem very good at reading maps.

Suddenly the silence of the forest was broken by the unmistakable crack of a gunshot. The woman's head jerked up, instantly alert. Daryl shifted, eyes narrowed. Another loud shot rang out, and this time it was easier to pinpoint the direction. The trees muffled the sounds, so the shooter must be nearby. The woman put away the map and compass with quick movements, shouldered the pack and headed, without hesitation, towards the sound of the gunshots. Her movements were ultra-tense, and she moved rapidly from tree to tree, all her attention focussed on the source of the noise. Unable to help himself, Daryl followed, closing distance as much as he dared while her attention was to the front. He felt like he was hunting a hunter.

Daryl stopped as he saw her drop to her knees not ten metres ahead of him. He leaned against a broad trunk of a tree and looked cautiously around it. It seemed as though the ground was sloping downwards from where he was standing, concealed, giving him a near-perfect view of the woman, who crouched behind a fallen tree in front and below him, and also of the people in the clearing, beyond her.

Four men in army fatigues stood in the clearing, next to a tent and a jeep. From the looks of their campfire and general camp debris, it would seem that they'd been there for a few days at least. A rough wood-cutters' road curved away into the trees on the far side of the camp, which, if Daryl's internal compass was right, would eventually lead back to the highway. Two walkers lay on the ground- evidently the reason behind the shots. Daryl shook his head at their stupidity- they'd wasted bullets and risked making noise and drawing more to their camp- over only _two_ walkers? Well, by the looks of things, they were well-stocked on weapons. Daryl could see a stack of rifles leaning against the tent, and boxes of ammo strewn about. And all of the men were carrying handguns. There was an open box near the smouldering campfire, in which Daryl could see many tins and boxes of food. He suddenly became aware of his own empty stomach. On the open back of the jeep was more boxes, unopened.

Were these men from a military base? If they were, they were most likely defectors. That was the only likely explanation for four men who were clearly idiots who had so many weapons and supplies. They hadn't even set up a perimeter, and this was the worst possible campsite. As the woman and Daryl had demonstrated, it was extremely easy to sneak up on them.

The men seemed pretty relaxed, overconfident even, swaggering about the bodies of the walkers and laughing. If it wasn't for their arsenal of weapons, he'd march right in there and steal their jeep before they knew what was happening. He imagined the look on Rick and the others' faces when he drove up with all those supplies... but it was stupid to imagine the impossible...

Suddenly, the woman caught Daryl's eye. She, like him, had been surveying the scene below them, motionless, but now she was moving. He stared. What was she...?

Still crouching down in her hiding place, the woman was checking the number of shells in her gun clip. She seemed dissatisfied, pursing her lips.

Daryl was confused. Surely she wasn't thinking of taking them on?!

Coming to some sort of decision, she removed her backpack and arm-guards with deft movements. She then removed the blade and shield from the backpack, and emptied half of the contents of the bag onto the ground, stacking everything neatly against the fallen tree. It was mainly a few tins and some items of clothing, and a bowl and water-bottle. She patted the slack backpack, satisfying herself that it looked almost empty. Most bizarrely of all, she then pulled her hair loose, so that it fell in waves to just past her shoulders. Lastly, and most reluctantly, she unhooked her gun, holster and all, from her belt, and laid it on the pile of the other things, with fingers that were a little shaky. She pulled the bottoms of her pants out of the tops of her lace-up boots, so that the tattered ends would drag on the ground under her heels as she walked. Then she pulled her belt slightly looser, so that her midriff was exposed. She was making herself look generally scruffier.

She took a few deep breaths, calming her nerves. Then, to Daryl's extreme shock, she stumbled out into the clearing, in full view of the men in the camp below.


	3. Chapter 3

**Haha, can you imagine Daryl's expression? Like, Whaaaaaaaat? What is this crazy bitch doing? Let's find out ;-D**

**CHAPTER 3**

"Oh my God," sobbed the woman in a strong Georgian twang, as she stumbled into the camp. "Thank God I found y'all!" The soldiers were caught completely by surprise. "H-hey!" shouted the nearest, and biggest man. He levelled his gun at her. "Stop right there!"

The woman stopped, swaying slightly, as if from hunger, or fatigue. She raised both her hands, cringing slightly. The men traded looks with raised eyebrows. She was clearly unarmed. The man didn't lower his gun. "Who are you?"

She gave a weak cough. Back on the ridge, a fly buzzed near Daryl and he remembered to close his mouth. She was putting on an act worthy of an Oscar, but did she really want help from these men...?

"Mah name's Sarah," she said in a wavering voice, "Please sir, I heard the gunshots an' I thought...I ... y'all're the first people I've seen in weeks, please..."

"You alone?" asked the man, and eyed her in a licentious way that instantly got Daryl's skin crawling. Clearly, the woman had also picked up on it. She took a small step back, holding up her hands nervously, "Yeah, it's just me... But I-"

One of the other men piped up, "You got a gun?"

Sarah shook her head vehemently, "Nah, I've never even _touched_ one o' those things."

The man closest to her finally lowered his gun, but the looks that he and the other three men were giving her were anything but friendly.

Sarah tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up at them from under her lashes, as if shy. "I'm sure such... such _gentlemen_ as yourselves could spare some food, maybe? Just a can or two would be more'n enough."

The man with the gun gave a nasty laugh. "Y'don't get somethin' for nothin' these days, sugar." His eyes raked her from head to toe. The other men gave approving nods.

Sarah's eyes flickered from one to the other. "Well then, I'll just be on mah way. It's your food." She turned slowly to leave, so that her back was to them, and her face was towards Daryl. Her expression seemed oddly blank and dark... kind of _chilling_. He was sure she hadn't had that expression when she'd been facing the other men...

The man lunged across and grabbed her arm roughly. To Daryl, it seemed like she'd been expecting it, but to them she again showed an expression of pathetic fear.

"No...!"

The man forced her back into the camp, and shoved her against the side of the jeep. She let herself be pushed, as if unable to fight back.

The man stuck his gun into his holster and leered at her. The other men stood where they were, watching, with grins.

"Y'all won't let me go?" she asked, voice suddenly quiet, arms limp at her sides. "Is there no way to resolve this... _peacefully_?"

The man snorted, "It's up to you whether it's _peaceful_ or not, sugar. I don't care either way though, personally." He started fumbling at her belt clasp.

Daryl's grip on his crossbow tightened. He couldn't just let this _happen_...

Sarah smiled. "Good lord, but you are just about the _dumbest motherfucker_ I've ever met." She said, conversationally. Her Georgian accent was gone- instead, her voice was clear and very precise, not quite British, but close.

"Wha-" the man was cut off before he could finish his sentence. Daryl narrowed his eyes. She'd stabbed the man in the ribs- she must have had a concealed blade somewhere. She stabbed him again, this time leaving the knife there. With a surprised gurgle, the man fell almost immediately as his lungs drowned in blood. The man's weight fell on her as the other three men finally realised what was happening. They jumped back, yelling and reaching for their weapons, fumbling. They weren't quick enough. Sarah reached a hand and drew the gun from the holster on the choking man's belt, firing three times in quick succession in the same, fluid movement. At that range, there was no way she could miss. It was three headshots, at impressive speed. Even if they'd managed to draw in time, she was using the body of the stabbed man was a shield. With a disgusted expression, she kicked him off of her.

In the aftermath of what had turned into a massacre, the silence in the clearing seemed strange. Daryl's heart raced as he stared around the trunk of the tree that he was hiding behind at the still figure of the woman standing over the four bodies, as the blood soaked into the dust. She was checking the rounds in the man's gun with practised ease, her expression unreadable. Daryl unthinkingly shifted his footing as his muscles relaxed, and a twig snapped loudly underfoot.

Sarah's head snapped up and so did the gun she held in her hand. Mentally cursing his stupidity, Daryl pressed himself back against the tree-trunk, praying she hadn't seen him. His heart-rate galloped. She would shoot him between the eyes before his bolt even left his crossbow. He hadn't taken a gun with him this morning, his first mistake...

Her boots crunched over the leaves as she strode closer to his hiding place, and he wracked his brain for a plan that wouldn't result in his immediate execution...

The footsteps stopped abruptly. "Huh." Sarah said.

Daryl chanced a glance around the other side of the tree. A walker was stumbling out of the trees to his right, moaning and grunting. He never thought he'd be so happy to see a walker sneaking up unexpectedly. Sarah walked over to her bags and got her blade out of its sheath. She waited for the walker to come closer, then slashed it diagonally across the face, splitting its skull with relative ease. Still with the unsheathed blade in one hand, she stuffed the rest of her belongings into the backpack and took it down into the camp.

As she walked away, Daryl let out a breath, mouth dry.

He realised that it was quite late in the afternoon already- he had to get back if he didn't want to get caught in the woods after nightfall. He wondered where "Sarah" (-if that was her real name... he wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't-) would be when it got dark. By the speed at which she was packing food into her backpack, he doubted she would be staying here. He could return with some of the others and scavenge for supplies tomorrow. He watched her cautiously, wondering when he would be able to risk leaving his hiding-place and slip away unnoticed.

She suddenly stopped her packing activities, and sat down heavily on the crate in the centre of the clearing, as if exhausted. In her hands was a chocolate bar- she'd found it in the box of food. She slowly unwrapped the chocolate bar with trembling fingers, and then, bringing it to her face, inhaled the smell reverently. Daryl realised how hungry she must have been. Even though she was so strong and... well, _capable_ would be putting it mildly... She was alone, and it wasn't treating her very well. If he didn't have the group, if he was out on his own, would he have ended up like her?

He watched her take a bite of the chocolate and chew it with her eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face.

The quiet moment was interrupted by the body of the stabbed man, which had begun to twitch. He was turning into a walker.


	4. Chapter 4

**So, Sarah is a murderous lunatic!? Don't worry, it gets better **

**CHAPTER 4**

Sarah stopped chewing and watched the man she'd killed come back to life.

His dead eyes saw her and he began dragging himself towards her, gaping mouth opening and closing like a monstrous fish, as his throat choked out garbled sounds. She looked from his gaping mouth, streaked with blood from her use of her knife (which still protruded from his chest) to the half-eaten chocolate bar in her hand. Suddenly the cloying sweetness seemed nauseating.

"Here, you have it then." She said, with a hollow laugh, and jammed the sweet into the walker's mouth. She stood up with a sigh, and swung her blade once, ending it. For a moment she stared at the body at her feet, then she turned away and retched, falling to her knees.

She didn't really have anything in her stomach to come up, but the parts of the chocolate that she'd swallowed did. Her eyes were glazed over as she stared at the ground. She was pretty sure her body was trying to produce tears, but she didn't think she had any left to give. This world was rotten, and she must be one of the most rotten things in it. Those men wanted to rape her, but at least they'd been straightforward about it. What she'd done was far worse- she'd provoked them, provided an easy target. She'd used their weakness against them for her own gain, just to get a meal. She'd killed bad people in self-defence before, but _this_? This was stretching self-defence into the realm of premeditated murder. She'd done it before... And she knew she'd do it again... The scary thing was how it was getting _easier_...

"Hey!" called a male voice suddenly, shattering her reverie. She stumbled up, disorientated. She raised the gun, but didn't know where to point it... she wiped her mouth self-consciously. The forest was silent again. She tried to think logically, but her moment of weakness had destroyed her sense of control. Every shadow behind every tree was hiding a man with a gun.

Behind his tree, Daryl bit his lip.

He'd been unable to help himself, seeing her breaking down like that. She was just another human, trying to survive in whatever way she could. He could respect the strength it must take to have to make life-or-death decisions alone. So he'd spontaneously decided to call out- he couldn't justify staying hidden from a woman in a state like that. It had just burst out of him, almost involuntarily, and he'd instantly regretted it. But he was no coward. It was time to stop sneaking about.

He stepped out from behind the tree, levelling his crossbow at her head. She pointed her gun at his. For a few moments, they stared at each other, sizing each other up.

Sarah stared with wide eyes at the man with the crossbow, completely taken aback. How long had he been there? How could she not have been aware of his presence? She tried to figure him out. The most striking thing about him was crossbow, and the ease at which he held it. He seemed like a crossbow himself, tensed and coiled like a spring, ready for whatever was thrown at him. His gaze was direct and unflinching, even though he must have seen what she'd done. He was not afraid, but wary, in a detached way. She noticed a string of dead squirrels hanging from his belt, and felt an absurd urge to laugh. She kept a straight face, mimicking his cool stare. Inside, her heart was beating fast. She wondered, would he pass the "gentlemen test"?

Daryl's mouth was dry as he watched her watching him. He was not confident he'd be able to match her speed if she decided to shoot him. He was at an advantage at this range- he had a scope and good enough aim to hit in one shot. She was pointing the gun so confidently, all trace of her former weakness gone. Her hand wasn't shaking, her expression was unreadable. But a gun was harder to aim from a distance. Then again, if he did miss, he'd be dead, unable to reload in time... He felt a curious thrill run through him as they stared each other down. It seemed like neither would break the stalemate...

Sarah was the first to make a movement.

"Fuck it." She said loudly, and threw her gun away from her with an exaggerated movement. Daryl blinked.

"I'm unarmed." She announced with a shrug, feeling a little crazy.

Daryl lowered his crossbow, but not completely. He couldn't understand her- one second she was killing four men, the next, surrendering to a stranger. Maybe it was simpler than that, though. Maybe she just _didn't care_, any more. He walked slowly into the clearing.

"I am sorry that you had to witness this," Sarah said, gesturing to the bodies behind her. "I assure you," she said, "I, er... I'm not _usually_ a murdering psychopath." She gave an uncertain, faltering smile, as if she'd forgotten how.

Daryl nodded, feeling awkward suddenly. He lowered his crossbow completely, avoiding her eyes, (which, he noted, were a blue-gray shade similar to his).

"I'm...er... Sarah." _Which he knew already_, she mentally berated herself.

"Daryl." He replied. His voice was surprisingly husky.

They stood awkwardly, staring off at different angles into the forest. Sarah wondered how she could get him to speak again.

"You followed me?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Since 'bout an hour back."

She nodded. "You have a camp somewhere?" she asked next.

He looked at her guardedly, giving her the answer. She nodded again, "Don't worry." She said, with false cheer, "I'm through with groups. I've been with three..." Daryl watched her expression get colder as she stared off into the distance, "Sooner or later," she continued, "People start dying... I don't want to be the only one left. Not again."

He could understand the logic there. But he also knew that her chances of survival, alone, were zero. It was a matter of time. With no one to cover her back, she was one mistake away from death. "How long've you been out here, alone?" he asked, curious.

"Only 'bout three weeks now." She answered tonelessly, and then went over to her backpack. She finished packing it up, then hoisted it onto her back with a grunt of effort.

She turned back to Daryl. "Nice meeting you, I guess..." she said, with the ghost of a smile.

"You're not takin' the car?"

"Nah," she said, looking down, "I've got what I need. You take it back... for your people."

Daryl considered for a few moments, drumming his fingers on his crossbow. "I'll give you a lift?" he offered, "Drop you off on the main road?"

She hesitated, then nodded. Silently, they both loaded usable gear onto the jeep, then Daryl found the keys in the pocket of one of the bodies. They both got in the front, and Daryl drove off.

As they drove, Daryl stole a few glances over at her. He kept expecting her say something, start babbling away like most females were apt to do, but she merely gazed out at the trees flashing past the window with a serious expression. He noticed there were marks on her arm: handprint-sized bruises from when that man had grabbed at her arm. Suddenly he wanted to break the silence.

"Your accent- You're not American?"

"Nope." She answered, and glanced at him, "South African."

"South Africa?"

"Uh-huh." She took in his sceptical expression. "There are white people in Africa too." She said, with a half-smile. "I was on vacation here when the world went to shit." She lapsed into silence again.

"Did you hear if it was happenin' there too, before the lines stopped workin'?" he asked.

"Last I heard," she replied, "My mom was complaining that they all had to report to a quarantine area." She shook her head, "I think I'm lucky, that I wasn't surrounded by family, friends... when everything happened. But I know, I _know_... they're dead. I'm just glad I didn't have to see it."

Daryl nodded.

Soon, they reached the high road. When they came to a small group of buildings- just a grocers and a couple of small shops- Sarah spoke again, "This'll do." She said. Daryl pulled over, and left the engine idling as she got out. There were no walkers visible in the area, at least. Daryl didn't quite know what to say.

"...Y'sure about this?" he said, uncertain of exactly what he was offering. It was clear that the group at the farm had a strict no-admissions policy.

But she shook her head. "I'll be fine." They both knew the truth; she wouldn't be fine. None of them would be, not for a long time. Especially if you were alone.

"I'll probably be around the area for a while." She said, more for something to say than for any particular reason.

"The Greene family's farm." Blurted Daryl, abruptly. "A few miles up the road there's a sign..."

She nodded. "Thanks, Daryl." She said, and walked away from the car. Daryl pulled away and left, without looking back, wondering... why on earth had he told her where the farm was?!


	5. Chapter 5

**So, as you've probably noticed, the events of Daryl and Sarah's first meeting happened in the interval between the shooting of Sofia in the barn (the end of ep 7 of s02) and the arrival of Randall on the farm (ep. 10). In the series it looks like just one or two days goes by, but I decided to stretch the interval a little longer, as in the series we also see Daryl withdrawing from the group- so it fits that maybe he went on a hunt to get away. I know he's still injured, but let's assume he was able to hunt etc. He seems pretty capable, physically, by the barn episode anyway. **

**This chapter's scene is pretty much straight from episode 9 of season two. **

**Note:**** this is not a Daryl/Carol fanfic, that's not my end-goal. I happen to like Carol's character, and she **_**is**_** important to him. So I'm writing their characters as close mutual friends/family (but not mother-son, good god he's too close to her age), much like the tone of the series. HOWEVER, also like the series, feel free to read into their scenes what you will for the moment. Not all love is **_**necessarily**_** romantic. :D**

**CHAPTER 5**

It was dark by the time Daryl got back to the farm.

The first thing he noticed was that the farm was very quiet... too quiet. Usually people were still milling about their tents at this time, or doing patrols. But there were lights on in the farmhouse, so he assumed that's where everyone was. Maggie, the farmer's daughter, and not one of 'his people', was sitting at Dale's customary spot on the RV. And she was watching the road. When she saw the jeep she'd started up, not recognising the vehicle, but Daryl waved out of the window and she saw him and came down.

"You found a car?" she asked him, confusion plain on her face.

"Yeah." Said Daryl noncommittally. He wanted Rick to be the first one to hear about it. "It's a long story, but there's some supplies on the back and a tank full o'gas."

Maggie nodded, but seemed distracted.

"What's goin' on?" asked Daryl.

"My dad went missing- we think he took a drive into town." She explained.

"Why'd he do a thing like that?"

"Just- just everything that happened, y'know... with the barn. He took it pretty hard."

"Yeah, well, we all did." Said Daryl bluntly. He was plumb out of sympathy for these people. He thought about Sarah out there... Maybe she had it right, not having to deal with this shit. He leaned back against the jeep, stretching. "So I'm guessin' people went lookin' for 'im?"

"Glenn and Rick." Affirmed Maggie.

That explained why she was the one keeping a vigil out here- she and the asian kid had some kind of thing going on.

"They shoulda been back by now, though." She said quietly, then headed back to the RV.

Daryl shook his head and headed for the house. He'd sort through the jeep tomorrow.

Inside, people were setting the table for a meal. It seemed strange without Rick and Herschel's presence... like no one knew quite what to say. Except for Shane, of course, who'd installed himself at the head of the table and seemed to have promoted himself to the role of a 'benevolent leader'.

They all largely ignored his presence, except for Carol, who clucked about trying to get Daryl to eat with them. Daryl brushed her off. He was just there to pick up some food, planning to take it back to his camp on the other side of the farm, where he might finally get some peace and quiet.

Maggie came in and sat down at the table.

"Where's Lori?" asked Carol suddenly, having given up on Daryl. Everyone looked at each other in shock for a few moments.

"Well, shit." Daryl said, the first to break the silence. _I leave for one day and the whole group goes to hell?_ He shook his head contemptuously, grabbed a plate, and left the house for his camp. It wasn't his problem. He was sick of being used to find people. Huh, he'd been gone for an entire day, left on foot, and had come back driving a jeep... and no one had noticed.

The last he saw was Shane was running about, barking orders and reassurances in equal measure. Then he took off in one of the cars to look for Lori. Daryl didn't even want to start trying to figure out _that_ messed-up three-way between Rick, Shane and Lori. Shane was bad news, and it was clear this group was falling apart.

He wondered what was holding him there. What was stopping him, from just... leaving? Leaving them all behind. Carol came to mind unexpectedly, and Sofia. But the kid was dead, and Carol... he felt confused about Carol. He had tried so hard to find that little girl, he'd even convinced himself she was still out there. Hell, he'd even convinced Carol that there was still hope, and he'd been so wrong. Merle would have laughed his head off at the pathetic lengths Daryl had gone to for these people.

Now the group was splintering, running around after each other and their petty dramas. All they had to do was survive- he'd brought back the jeep loaded with everything they'd need if they wanted to leave. What the hell were they still doing hanging about on this stupid farm?

_"I've got what I need. You take it back... for your people"_ - that's what Sarah had said. _Your people_. Were they his people?

Unexpectedly, Carol emerged out of the trees. She was looking for him. _Damn woman was always hovering..._ He suddenly felt unreasonably angry at her.

"What're you doin'?" he said brusquely, startling her.

"Keepin' an eye on you." She said. She was looking at him with those concerned eyes, as if she could see right through his bravado, to the very core of the turmoil in his heart.

Why did she care? What was she trying to prove? He didn't need her caring, didn't want her reassurances...

He started walking away, then suddenly turned back, and before he knew it, all the hurt and pain he'd been feeling just started pouring out. It poured out in a blistering wave of hurtful words... the most hurtful things he could think of to say to her. Anything to push her away, so that she would just _stop_.

He paused for breath, feeling adrenaline pounding through him. His words were getting to her, he could tell. Her eyes were wet with tears, but there was also a determination there that somehow enraged him further. He raged at her, almost violent; how she was a bad mother, and that's why Sofia was dead. How he didn't care... had never cared... should never have cared...

Why was she still standing there? Why didn't she just get the hint and _leave him alone_?

A small voice in the back of his mind asked, _Why did you reach out to a stranger, then? When you saw her crying without tears, alone in the blood and the dust in that clearing. You had your chance to leave. Why did you care what happened to her?_ He pushed that thought away. That woman had been in need of help... he was _just fine_... he would be just fine...

"You're not my problem!" he yelled, wishing she would stop caring. She had no business caring. She had no business liking him. He couldn't find her daughter, even after he'd promised he would. She was dead- he'd failed them both. Carol _should_ hate him. "Sofia wasn't mine!", he yelled, as if to justify his failure. "Why didn't y'just keep an eye on her?"

His words hung on the air- he'd run out of things to say. The silence was full of tension, but she still stared at him with those eyes... those eyes that had taken blows before, and could handle it. Now Daryl had guilt to add to the list of feelings he didn't want or need.

"What happened out there, while you were gone?" she asked, her voice quiet, as if afraid he would start yelling again.

Daryl glared, hostile. "Yeah? Why d'you care?" his voice was raw, but whether from shouting or emotion, it was impossible to tell.

"I noticed you were gone." Said Carol simply, "And so did the others. We got worried-"

"Like hell you were." Snarled Daryl, "Ol' man goes AWOL for _five minutes_ and everyone runs about after him, same with Lori. Y'all wouldn't even _notice_ if I never came back."

Carol was shaking her head. "That's not-"

"S'true an' you know it. Only reason you're here at all is 'cause y'got no one else." He said cruelly. She swallowed hard, but held her ground.

"Y'wanna know where I've been all day?" he continued recklessly, "I met a chick in the woods. She was out there all alone, and coping _just fine_-" in his mind's eye he saw her kneeling in the dust again... saw the empty expression in her eyes, "-An' I've taken to thinking maybe... that's the right way forward."

His voice had changed, had gotten a little quieter. He knew the seriousness of what he was proposing. His expression was caught between shame and a kind of lost defensiveness. Carol wondered whether he was just saying it in the heat of the moment, or if he really meant it.

She nodded at him, trying to hide her alarm at the prospect of him leaving, "We've all considered it at some point." She said quietly, unsure of what to say, "It's hard, living with people... But we still need each other. All of us."

He dropped his gaze, awkward again. "Hell, I'm tired of y'all..." at that last, his voice broke slightly. Unable to face her and her terrible, understanding eyes anymore, he turned his back on her and left.

Carol stood for a while, swaying slightly in the cold air. She'd never seen Daryl lose it like that... He was a good man, but he wasn't used to the idea of being important to someone else. Clearly, something had happened earlier that day that he was struggling to deal with. She wondered what had happened to the woman he'd met. As soon as he got hurt, he would withdraw and lash out, like a wounded, wild animal.

It may be true that she was latching onto him, now that Sofia was gone... but she couldn't help it. He had shown flashes of what she knew was his true self to her, and in those moments, he was someone stronger and _better_ than most in this rotten world. It was also obvious that Daryl _needed_ the group... He would lose himself without it.

**Author's note: **

**Whooo, hectic chapter! But I had to put it in there. If you go back and watch episode 9 (season 2) again, you'll see I took Daryl's blow-up at Carol straight from that episode. When I first watched it, I was shocked at how angry Daryl got at Carol, since most of the time he keeps it pretty cool, and avoids drama. **

**So I got to thinking about what his inner conflict was, and it always came back to the same thing: he's got such low self-esteem, and he's been told he's a good-for-nothing piece of shit all his life. So he doesn't understand how someone like Carol, or even Rick, can value him as a person. He **_**wants**_** to be hated, he's learnt it's easier than suffering rejection. **

**With this in mind, I imagined how the confrontation may have ended, since in the episode they just kinda ended the scene unresolved.**

**This is a pivotal moment for him, because after episode 9 we see Daryl increasingly allowing himself to become an indispensable and involved member of the group.**

**Let me know what you think in reviews? Why do **_**you**_** think Daryl lost it like that? Was I right in assuming he also felt guilty about not finding Sofia, which translated into anger at Carol?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey peeps! Here's what's been happening with our heroine **

**CHAPTER 6**

Sarah stayed the night on the floor of the back office of the dust-filled store, right where Daryl had dropped her off.

She had a proper meal of canned beans and tuna, from the supplies she'd taken from the camp in the woods. It was a wonderful feeling, to have a full stomach for once. But she knew she'd have to ration the rest.

Travelling alone was tricky. In the beginning, she'd tried to stockpile items and food, and travelled by car. But petrol ran out quickly, and she couldn't stay in one place for too long. Sooner or later she'd have to move on, and could only take what she could carry.

Her bag was heavy- she was pushing it with the number of cans and packets of food she'd taken, but she would probably be able to break into a reasonable jog if she needed to.

Still, a full stomach made a big difference, and she felt almost cheerful as she lay down for the night, in the oppressive silence that she never seemed to grow accustomed to. Sometimes it felt so quiet, it was as if someone had pressed pause on the world, and she was the only person time had left behind.

Her dreams that night were vivid, no doubt as a result of the food. She walked through the forest, closely followed by Daryl. In the dream she kept turning as she walked, trying to ask him something... something important, over her shoulder, but he wouldn't answer her, just giving her that enigmatic, surly gaze, as if he was waiting for her to come up with the answer by herself. She turned again, and he had disappeared. She found herself alone. Out of the trees came the four men she'd killed, lurching, bloody hands reaching...

She jerked awake with a curse, fumbling for her weapon before realising where she was. She was safe, in the back of the store. She stood up slowly, joints stiff from the hard floor, and rubbed her face. A shaft of light shone in through the small window of the office. It was already morning, and she needed to get moving.

Outside the store, she looked about, squinting in the bright light. It looked like a good day- she tried to put the dream out of her mind. Her mood was improved further when she saw a bicycle lying nearby. The tyres weren't too deflated either- this was a stroke of luck. It would be nice not to have to walk for a while! Maybe the blisters on her feet would start to heal up, finally. She didn't put her boots on, hoping she wouldn't have to run anywhere soon, and the air would do her feet good.

She consulted her map, and looked towards the direction Daryl had driven. The Greene Farm... it wasn't on the map, but he'd said if she just followed the road... she stared wistfully at the heat haze where the road disappeared over the horizon, and wondered if they were nice people. Was it a large group? Were they all as capable as Daryl? She shook her head slightly. 'What ifs' would do her no good.

"Forward and no surrender..." she muttered to herself, with a sigh, as she pushed off and cycled away in the opposite direction, away from the farm.

That afternoon, she came upon an abandoned two-storey house at the side of the road, and decided to call it a day. She'd cycled far, only stopping twice for short breaks along the way, and her butt was sore from the saddle of the bike.

The house was deserted, and empty of anything particularly useful. But it seemed relatively secure, and it seemed as though someone had removed bodies from the rooms, which hardly smelled anymore. She decided she might stay the next day too, use the time to rest up and plot her course on the map. When she left, she'd be travelling into new territory, and there was no telling when she'd find another safe spot.

That night, exhausted from the day's cycling, she made herself a bed on the floor near the window on the second floor of the house, having barricaded the doors downstairs as well as she could. She had a restless night, as the old house creaked in the wind, giving her a heart-attack each time. She kept picturing a walker creeping up the stairs towards her, even though the door to the bedroom was also barricaded.

The next morning, she woke with the sun, but continued lying on the floor for several hours longer, dozing as the sunlight shafted across her.

By about 11 in the morning she got up, feeling refreshed and cheerful. She continued exploring the house at her leisure, and even found a few good books. That afternoon she even risked making a fire in the fireplace, but she made sure the wood she used was very dry, so that it wouldn't make too much smoke. That evening, she boiled water and added soup powders, relishing the feeling of once again having a full stomach. She took her usual dose of multivitamins and immune supplements with the remainder of the clean water she'd boiled. It was easy to get a deficiency in some or other important mineral or vitamin, when she didn't know when she would have access to fruit or vegetables again. The last thing she needed was to get sick. Alone, even a mild flu that incapacitated her, or made her less observant, could spell death.

Many of the farms she'd come across had fruit trees, but they were dead or dying from lack of attention. It was part of the reason why she'd decided to leave the cities; she'd hoped things would be easier in the farmlands. She'd assumed there would be less walkers, and maybe even places where they hadn't been yet. So far, she was still searching for that, and hope dwindled every day.

After her long lie-in that morning, she didn't feel like going to sleep so quickly that night, especially since she knew she'd just lie awake listening to the house creaking around her again. She didn't dare use a light or fire after dark- it drew them like moths to a flame- but the moon was bright enough, so she pulled up a chair to the window in her room on the second floor, and started to read some of the books she'd found.

The hours ticked by in peace and quiet, as she devoured book after book, getting absorbed into each one. Every now and again, as she turned a page or picked up a new book, she would glance out of the window. She'd picked this spot because of its broad view into the field beyond the house- it the bright moonlight she could see quite a distance, maybe a hundred metres, of the overgrown field.

Around about four in the morning, she yawned and rubbed her eyes briefly, knowing she should have gone to sleep already. Maybe she should stay in the house again the next morning, have another lazy day...

Suddenly, glancing up at the field, she saw a figure moving with that loathsome, shambling gait. Tiredness evaporated instantly, as her finely honed survival instincts kicked in. She reached out and fished about in her bag, bringing her small set of binoculars up to her eyes. She scanned the field. There was a walker- no, two walkers. She could handle two easily, if they came to the house. But they often travelled in groups, which could be a problem. She was glad she hadn't used a flashlight to read.

Another walker emerged out of the woods in the distance. Now there were three. Still manageable, and it looked like they were going to bypass the house, if they continued in a straight line.

Another came of the woods, and then another.

"_Fuck_." Whispered Sarah softly.

Now more were appearing- how many were there? They kept pouring out of the woods, now in tightly packed groups. Now twenty, now at least thirty...

Sarah was galvanised into action. She had to get out of here. It was too much to hope they would pass by the house- she knew from experience that if _anything_ alerted them to her potential location, they'd come to inspect. She'd cut wood today just outside the door- they might catch her scent. That many walkers would tear the house down, and she couldn't risk getting trapped here.

She was so glad she'd decided to stay up and read, had glanced out of that window when she did- it was so fortunate she hadn't been sleeping. She shuddered- she may never sleep again. This was how people travelling alone died. She'd been a fool to stay put here. The only safe way to live these days was to keep mobile.

She grabbed her bag and put her boots on and arm-guards on, gearing up for a fight. She gathered the few things she'd left downstairs, stuffing them hurriedly into her bag. She would leave out the back door- if she was lucky, they wouldn't have surrounded the house yet. She peeked out of the window on the bottom floor, and stifled a gasp. This was the biggest group she'd ever seen out of the cities- it was like they were migrating or something. She'd estimate easily over a hundred. Two hundred? And more were still appearing. She could hear their groans- it was definitely time to scarper.

She got out of the house and grabbed the bike, but couldn't cycle out to the road- the driveway of the property was around the front of the house. So she pushed/ half carried the bike through the tree-line, cutting through to reach the main road. At the side of the road she glanced left and right; which way should she go? If she went left she could continue in the direction she'd been travelling, cut past the walkers before they got there-

It was too late; they were already pouring onto the road. She cursed. That way was blocked. She had no choice but to travel back the way she'd come. Unless something drew their attention off the road, it was likely they'd continue up the road in the same direction she went, where there was the least resistance for them to walk. Well, on the bicycle, at least she'd be able to put some distance between her and them.

She pushed off, pedalling fast, away from the walkers. The moon, as if to heighten the night-marish situation she was in, had disappeared behind clouds. She was sure the walkers wouldn't be able to see her at that distance in the dark, and one good thing about the bicycle was that it was almost silent. She sighed, thinking of all the hills she'd have to cycle up- again. At least she was alive. _Alive to die another day_, she thought wryly to herself.

It was cold, miserable work, cycling in the dark. Her breath formed wraiths in front of her face, and she cursed her asthma as the cold air caused her lungs to close up. Each time she thought of stopping, she remembered the walkers following behind her, and somehow found the strength to pedal faster.

It was easier once the sun was up, warming her back. She got her cap out to shade her eyes, and continued, knowing every kilometre was another kilometre further from danger. She cycled fast, and passed the grocer's store where she'd spent the night two nights ago just after midday. She didn't stop, but tried to ignore the burning in her thighs and the wheezing of her breath. The straps of the bag cut into her shoulders. She could feel every one of those precious cans, and the delicious contents inside, exerting pressure on her spine.

At about four in the afternoon, she came to a slow stop at the side of the road, and took off her pack, rolling her shoulders. She had a drink of water, a frown on her face. The reason she'd stopped was a wooden sign on the side of the road, pointing down a dirt track that curved off away from the main road, into the trees. It had the name "Greene" painted on it.

She bit her lip. She _should_ just continue down the road. Hole up somewhere when she could go no further, for a few hours' rest, and then continue before the walkers caught up to her. She _should_ just leave.

But what if something caused the walkers to leave the road and they found the farm? The road curved in several spots, and even doubled back on itself in one spot. The walkers may decide to continue in a straight line, which _could_ lead them in the direction of the farm. For all she knew, they might be very close by, if they travelled as the crow flies. A group like that wouldn't be impeded by fences. If there were farm animals, they may catch their scent and-

No, it was unlikely. And anyway, Daryl's group had the jeep, and whatever other vehicles besides. If they had to get away in a hurry, they would be able to just drive off. And who was to say his group would be friendly, just because Daryl was? They may shoot her on sight. It was stupid to risk her neck for people she didn't know. That was how stupid people got killed. She got on her bike and cycled away.

"Ah, shit!" She said to no one in particular, and cycled back up to the sign. "I _am_ an idiot." She muttered resignedly, as she left the main road and cycled down the dirt track.

**Author's note:**

**So Sarah faced a similar dilemma to Daryl- should she risk herself for strangers? How interesting. What do you think Daryl's reaction will be when he sees her again? How will Rick react? Let me know in reviews **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note:**

**Right, well, we're now at the same point in the story around episode 12 of season 2. If you want to see the exact moment Sarah arrives, pause the episode at 21min 40 secs (ish).**

**CHAPTER 7**

Andrea and Glenn, working on the RV, were the first to spot her coming up the drive.

"Hey!" Shouted Andrea, drawing her gun, "Stop right there!"

When Sarah saw them, she stopped the bike and got off slowly, raising her arms to show she was unarmed. Her heart beat fast- she would know soon enough whether she'd just made the worst mistake of her life... or not.

Glenn gave a piercing two-fingered whistle, alerting the others at the house.

Rick and Daryl were loading some things onto the back of a small blue truck, but came running at the sound of Glenn's warning.

Daryl was surprised, to say the least, when he saw her. He hung back, a worried look on his face, as Rick strode forward, drawing his pistol as well, taking command of the situation as usual.

Sarah tried to remain calm, face not betraying any fear. She lowered the bicycle frame to ground slowly, and then stood still, shoulders back. She tried not to let the sigh of relief she gave show too much when she saw Daryl.

"Daryl." She said, nodding at him. He didn't show any response, other than shifting his weight slightly on his feet.

Rick looked from Daryl, back to Sarah.

"Is this the girl you told me about, that you met?" Rick asked him.

Daryl nodded mutely. The previous day, just before they'd all met to discuss Randall's fate at the farmhouse, he'd taken Rick aside and told him about Sarah. Rick had listened attentively, face not betraying any emotion, for the whole story, but when Daryl admitted he'd told her about the farm, he shook his head in disbelief.

"You _told_ her where to find us?" Rick had asked him, incredulously. "Just like that? Daryl, we are about to decide whether to _execute_ a man for just knowing about us."

Daryl respected Rick's opinion, and wasn't even sure he _had_ made the right call. But he still felt he had to defend his position: "No man, this was different. She's not a threat to us."

Rick raised an eyebrow at him, "But you just told me how she killed four men in cold blood." He argued.

Daryl shook his head, firmly, "Nah, you weren't there, Rick. She was just survivin'."

After a pause, Rick had given up the argument. He got up to walk inside the house, but before he left, he laid a hand on Daryl's shoulder, "Look," he said quietly, "I trust your judgement, I do. Let's just hope it won't come back to haunt us."

Their conversation was on both of their minds as Sarah stood before them, now. Daryl vowed that he'd be the first to put her down, if she turned out to be a threat to the group.

Sarah sized Rick up. He must be their leader. "Hi," she said, trying to sound friendly in the strained atmosphere. Andrea was also still pointing a gun at her. "I'm Sarah."

"Rick." Rick replied. He too, was sizing her up- trying to decide how much of a threat she was. She seemed pretty ordinary- admittedly those were some bad-ass boots she wore. She looked tired- sweat soaked and dusty from cycling a great distance. He reminded himself that she'd taken out four heavily armed men by herself, by being underestimated.

Just then, an old man with white hair and an old woman came out of the farmhouse. "Who is this?" Herschel asked, looking to Rick worriedly. Patricia, his ever-present shadow, was just a step behind him.

"Herschel, this is Sarah." Replied Rick, not taking his eyes off her, "And I don't know _what_ she's doing here."

"Look," Sarah said, raising her hands in a placating gesture. She glanced between Andrea and Rick, who were still pointing guns at her, "I know I shouldn't have come, but..." her eyes flickered momentarily to Daryl, "I was passing on the road and saw the sign. I came to give you a warning-" this got their attention, "-I was travelling up the road and I came across a massive group of walkers. I can't be sure, but it seemed like they might be heading this way. I thought you should have a head's up."

"What?" said Glenn nervously. The others traded nervous looks.

"I could be wrong." She said quickly, "But I've never seen so many outside the cities before. They are in the area, and if they head this way, you should be ready to leave."

Rick thought quickly. Was she telling the truth- just being neighbourly and giving them a heads-up, or did she have another objective? Was she just trying to ingratiate herself into the group? If what she was saying was correct, though, there were more pressing issues at stake here. He lowered his gun slightly. "Alright," he said, "Let's discuss this calmly. Hand over your bag and weapons to Glenn," he gestured to the asian guy, "And we'll talk."

Sarah hesitated.

"That's not a request." Rick said, in a no-nonsense voice, "You'll get it back soon enough."

Sarah considered for a moment, then did as he asked. Glenn stumbled slightly as he took the bag- unprepared for the weight. _How did she manage to carry that on her back without falling over? _He wondered, impressed.

"Your knife, too." Said Daryl, speaking to her for the first time since she'd arrived.

She looked at him in the eyes coldly for a couple of moments, and Daryl felt a bit of a chill creeping up his spine. Then she gave a sweet smile, though inside she was fuming. He'd caught her out there- that was her one ace-in-the-hole. She took out her knife from its secret pouch in the lining of her pants pocket, and also handed it over to Glenn, handle first. She was weaponless now, and it didn't feel good. Rule number one in encounters with strangers- always have the upper hand, something they didn't know. She had nothing.

Rick looked more wary than ever, but lowered his gun. "I appreciate you coming to warn us like this," he said, "But I'm sure you understand why we have to take precautions."

Sarah met his eyes squarely, "I can understand that. You'd be fools if you didn't. But I have no ulterior motives- and as soon as I've spoken my piece, I'd like to be on my way."

Rick nodded. "That's fine with me." He said, but wondered if it was prudent to let her go. She may not be a threat to them, but there were those out there who were. Randall's group, for example. If she came across them while out on her own, they must not hear from her about Randall-

"Hey, Rick!" came T-Dog's voice, panicked as he ran up around the house, "You're not gonna believe this- Randall's missing!"

Rick cursed. There went all hopes of secrecy. This day got better and better.

T-Dog skidded to a halt, panting, "Wha- Who're you?" he panted when he saw Sarah.

"Hi there." She said, wondering who Randall was, and why everyone seemed upset.

Rick ignored T-Dog's question, rubbing his temples. "Right," he said, turning back to Sarah, "Can you show us on a map where you last saw the walkers?"

Sarah nodded. "I have a map in my bag."

"Good, good... Herschel, Glenn, take her up to the house and try to figure it out. And get everyone else to stay inside the house. Daryl, T-Dog, you're with me, let's go down to the shed and find Randall." Sarah watched with interest as everyone jumped to do his bidding, even Daryl, who she'd pegged as the lone wolf type. Clearly, Rick was not to be underestimated.

"Come with me." Herschel said, resting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her up to the house. She took one wistful look at her bike lying in the dust, but let herself be lead away without complaint.

Rick grabbed Andrea and pulled her aside quickly, "Keep an eye on her?" he said, glancing meaningfully at the gun in her hand. Andrea nodded, understanding. "She doesn't leave before I get back." Ordered Rick, in a serious tone.

"You got it." Andrea said, and followed Herschel up to the house.

**Author's note:**

**So, I was wondering how to write Daryl's reaction to seeing her again so unexpectedly, and came up with... Mutual suspicion! Let me know your thoughts? The more you review, the more I'm encouraged to write.**

**Next chapter we get to see the other's reactions to Sarah :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**New chapter, yay! Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows, you guys are awesome.**

**CHAPTER 8**

"So here is the house that I was staying at yesterday, and the walkers were coming out of the woods from this direction..." Sarah pointed it out on the map. The map was spread out on the large wooden dining-room table. Herschel and Patricia were there, along with three other women, who'd introduced themselves as Carol, Lori and Maggie. Andrea, the blonde woman who had been the first to point a gun at her, stood at the door with the asian guy, Glenn. Andrea was leaning casually on the door-frame, and her gun was back in its holster, but Sarah could feel her eyes on the back of her neck every second.

Andrea watched this new arrival with suspicion. She looked young- younger than her, maybe Maggie's age, but very capable. Her hand hovered close to her gun, ready to draw and fire at a moment's notice.

Glenn was holding onto Sarah's bag , also watching, with a worried expression- no doubt he was picturing this horde of walkers Sarah had told them about, bearing down on the house as they spoke. They all were.

"Hey," Andrea said quietly to him, "Why don't you go and check what's going on with Rick?" she nodded at the bag at his feet. "I'll take care of things here."

He nodded briefly, and went out, prompting a concerned look from Maggie, who followed him out after a moment. As Maggie passed Andrea, she gave her a scowl; clearly, Andrea was still not welcome at the house, after the whole Beth-suicide issue.

She avoided Maggie's eyes, and then turned her attention to the bag Glenn had left. She glanced up at Sarah- but she still had her back to her. Andrea first inspected the blade, pulling it a few inches out of its sheath. It was razor-sharp and quite heavy, reminiscent of a machete, but longer and more elegant. It had been roughly made- perhaps a custom build, after the walkers appeared? The handle was bound in worn, toughened leather. Next to it was the shield, also made of a similar hard, heavy metal. On the underside there were two leather straps, made for securing an arm. She was impressed by the oval design- it was small enough, meant to only cover your left forearm from just above the elbow to the hand, which was protected by the end of the shield. On the hand end, it tapered to a blunt edge. It could be used to keep walkers at arm's length, or to bash in their skulls with the tapered edge, using just a well-placed punching movement.

She unzipped the bag quietly, just glancing in briefly. She saw binoculars and lots of cans, some clothes- just the normal survival kit. She straightened up, her curiosity satisfied for the moment.

"...How many did you say there were again?" Lori was asking with a frown.

"It's hard to say for sure... And I didn't exactly stick around, but I'd estimate a few hundred, at least."

"A few hundred? You _couldn't_ be more specific than that?" said Carol sarcastically.

Sarah scowled at her, but her tone remained respectful. "When I left the house, there were at least two hundred coming out of the woods, more every second. When I looked back, on the road, there were at least double that, and more appearing every second_. I saw_ at least four hundred walkers. But I didn't see them all."

Herschel sat down heavily in one of the chairs, and pulled the map closer. "Okay then, so we have an unknown, large group of walkers heading in this general direction. Now, you cycled about a hundred miles to get here by road, but if you draw a straight line from here-" he placed his finger where the abandoned house was, "to here," he moved his finger to the farm, "It's only about 30 miles."

"Huh, all that work just to get 30 miles away." Sarah mumbled. Herschel glanced at her. She was all done in... Skinny, too.

"How fast do the walkers move?" asked Carol nervously, looking around at the group.

"Hard to say," answered Sarah, "Human walking speed is 5 k's... uh, about 2 miles an hour," she corrected, trying to stop thinking in the metric system. "But I reckon walkers with a sense of purpose can get a little faster than that... maybe, 3 miles an hour? And they don't stop for anything, don't get tired."

"So... potentially..." said Lori slowly, working it out, "They could be here in about... ten hours?"

There was a brief silence as the group around the table processed this frightening prospect.

Sarah straightened up, stretching her back. "I'd advise you leave, or at least be ready to leave, just in case." She looked around at Andrea and her bag meaningfully. "I'm planning on getting out of here, now that I've said my piece. _If_ you don't mind?"

Herschel began nodding his head, but Andrea was shaking hers. Her hand rested lightly on her gun. "You aren't going anywhere, until Rick gets back and says so." She said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Sarah glared at her. "You have no right to keep me here any longer!"

Andrea drew her gun, but didn't point it yet. "Sit down." She ordered Sarah coolly.

Sarah ignored her, and turned back to the others, "Listen, I came here of my own volition to give you some friendly advice... Take it or leave it, _I don't care_. But I have to worry about myself, and its getting dark. I want to leave now while I still have some light to get somewhere safe for the night." She looked from face to face, but they all just looked woodenly back- _this Rick really had them trained well_, she thought bitterly. She knew it was a mistake to have come.

"I won't be a prisoner." She warned them, voice low.

Herschel made a calming gesture with his hands, and stood up, "No one is a prisoner here," he said firmly, "We just need to be careful..."

Patricia stepped forward, opening her mouth for the first time, "Why don't you just have a seat, my dear?" she said, resting a hand on Sarah's shoulder lightly, "Use the time to rest. I'm sure it won't be long. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Sarah blinked at her, thrown off guard. No, she wanted to declare, and kick the chair, calling Andrea's bluff, flipping her off and grabbing her bag, just marching out of there. But then, she hadn't had tea in so long...

"Um..." she said, into the tense silence, "I guess... I take milk and two sugars, thanks." She dropped into a chair. Patricia gave a small smile, and went into the kitchen. Andrea reholstered her gun, suppressing a relieved sigh.

"Maybe we should... send someone out to the fences, keep watch that side of the farm?" Herschel suggested.

"Bad idea." Replied Lori immediately, "We shouldn't separate; those walkers could come from any direction. The last thing we need is for people to get cut off."

Herschel nodded. "Then we'll put some people on watch and-"

"We should leave." Said Lori tensely. She saw Herschel's expression, "Look, I know it's hard, but if there's even a chance that the walkers could-"

"I'm not leaving the farm." Herschel said firmly. "It's not a sure thing that the walkers would come anywhere near here anyway-"

"It's too much of a risk!" argued Lori, but she could see Herschel was not about to change his mind. She shook her head, and walked out, going to look for Rick.

Carol remained at the table, looking at the map, lost in thought.

Andrea stepped forward. "Look," she said to Herschel, trying to be reasonable, "I'm not saying we should leave... But we should make sure the vehicles are ready, just in case."

Herschel sighed, and nodded.

Sarah looked up as Andrea and Herschel walked away from the table together.

"You stay here." Said Andrea firmly to her. Sarah gave a stiff nod, resigned to her fate, and watched them also disappear down the hall.

Patricia came in with two mugs of tea- one for Carol as well.

"Thanks!" said Sarah enthusiastically, inhaling the aroma of the tea eagerly. The first sip burnt the tip of her tongue- she'd forgotten how good it tasted.

Carol watched her with a small smile. "What accent is that?" she asked conversationally.

Sarah gave a half-smile. "Daryl asked me the same thing, when I first met him." She said. Carol's interest was piqued by that- so he'd actually had a conversation with her? He usually wasn't the chatty type around strangers.

"But to answer your question, I'm from South Africa, originally." Continued Sarah.

Carol took a sip of her tea. "That's very interesting! I've never been anywhere outside of the states." She admitted. She looked at Sarah sympathetically.

"I'm not homesick, not anymore." Said Sarah, correctly interpreting her expression, "I know by now there isn't a home for me to return to." She looked into her tea, trying to push memories of home away.

"Anyway," she said lightly, "America and it's lax gun laws are probably the reason I'm still around! With every second person owning a firearm here, I'm surprised the walkers managed to take over." She joked.

Carol smiled. "So, you met Daryl? How did that happen?"

"He didn't tell you guys?" asked Sarah cautiously, though she suspected she knew the answer. They wouldn't be offering her tea if they'd had the whole story.

"No, he just told Rick, I think." Answered Carol, affirming Sarah's hypothesis.

Sarah nodded, "Well," she began, "We ran into each other in the woods, and came across a camp. We took the car and supplies, and he dropped me off on his way back here."

Carol considered this, turning her cup slowly in her hands. The story was too simple- she was being quite evasive. Something else had happened. Sarah had made it sound like the camp had been just sitting there, abandoned. But she decided not to prod too much. "It's a little unlike Daryl, to be so... considerate of others." Carol said, thinking of his harsh words to her the other night. But she also knew he did have a softer side, he just needed to find it again.

Sarah frowned at her tea, remembering that day. She wanted to conceal as much as she could about what happened as possible, but was also curious about him. "He, uh..." she said, "He actually had me in his sights, while I was unarmed." She paused. "He had every reason to... but he didn't take the shot." She shrugged at Carol. "I'm glad he didn't. He seems like a decent man... a rare thing, in times like these."

Carol nodded. "He is." She said simply. "We've lost a lot of people... especially... recently..." she tried not to think of Sofia, or Dale, who they'd lost just the previous night. She looked up at Sarah, pain etched in her face, "It hasn't been easy on any of us." She said quietly.

"I'm sorry." Said Sarah sincerely. She knew what that felt like. At first glance, she'd taken this grey-haired woman to be a non-threat, a weaker one. But she saw something, a hardness, a strength, in her eyes, that she could respect. She trusted her instincts with people, and today, all of them had shown unity and strength.

She glanced out of the window- the sun was low in the sky, and Rick wasn't back yet.

"Well," Sarah said resignedly, "There's no point in me leaving now. I guess I'll just have to stay. Let's hope we make it to dawn."

**Author's note:**

**WILL they make it to dawn? SPOILER haha: Nope :D Next chapters will be the finale of season 2, and then I think I'm going to write some adventures for them to have while travelling around in the time interval before finding the prison. **

**If anyone has any specific requests for what they want to read during that time, let me know in reviews! I have some ideas of my own, some chapters already written, but I'm always open to suggestions.**

**ALSO: listen to "Civilian" by Wye Oak, it's a song I first heard on The Walking Dead, and I've been listening to it a lot while writing, it's pretty awesome.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note:**

**Shit starts going down! Good Lord, so much death! Haha, enjoy.**

**CHAPTER 9**

Andrea and Herschel loaded the last of the supplies into the last of the three vehicles just as the sun's last light faded.

"So what do you think about her?" Andrea asked him, curious about the old man's take on Sarah. He'd always treated them with suspicion, but since he'd returned with Rick from his escape to the bar, she'd noticed a subtle change in him. He seemed more open-minded, and just... more accepting, of reality. She supposed finally facing the facts (that the world had gone to shit) could do that to a person.

"I'm not certain just yet," he said in his careful manner, "But so far I've just seen a brave young woman, trying to do the right thing." He glanced up at her."We should have let her go." He said mildly.

She shook her head, "No, Rick's orders." She hesitated, "I don't know what Daryl told him about her, but if it's enough that Rick doesn't trust her..."

"That is something to think about." Said Herschel heavily, leaning on the side of the truck, "But all the same, it doesn't seem right. She's not a threat, like Randall."

Andrea nodded thoughtfully. "You know," she said to Herschel slowly, "Maybe we're thinking about this the wrong way."

He looked up at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"We can all tell, she's pretty strong. She has to be, to have survived alone... Don't you think we could use someone like that, in our group?"

Herschel considered it for a while. "We don't know enough about her, to start extending invitations just yet... But I see your point. At the very least, we certainly don't want her as our enemy." He said, raising an eyebrow at her meaningfully. He was obviously referring to her earlier bossiness, with the gun.

Andrea snorted. "Huh. I'll keep first watch." She said, and walked off to the RV.

Herschel glanced around the farm, fear gripping him. It was almost dark; he could already see the stars. Soon the moon would be up and they would be able to see across the fields. He couldn't imagine it overrun with walkers.

_It won't happen_, he told himself firmly, pushing those thoughts down, and walked back into the house.

In the kitchen, Sarah was eating a plate of food that Patricia had prepared, and seemed in happier spirits.

"I never thought it would happen," she was saying to Patricia, sitting at the table with her, "But I've been having broccoli cravings for a while now." She shook her head in disbelief. "Broccoli? I always hated the stuff, until I couldn't have any."

Herschel came and sat down with her. "You look very thin. What have you been eating?"

Sarah made a face, "Canned tuna, canned beans, canned fruit, canned soup..." she counted off on her fingers, "You see the pattern? But I've been taking some multivitamins, as well. I make do."

He nodded. "I'm a vet... about the closest thing to a doctor in this group, anyway." He explained.

She nodded. "Don't be too worried about me," she said with a smile, "I've always been on the skinny side, even before. And it's not surprising, given my active lifestyle of late."

Just then, Lori came in, looking harrassed. She poured herself a glass of water, muttering to herself.

"Where's Rick?" asked Herschel.

"Rick," said Lori, in an aggravated voice, "Has gone off with Shane, Daryl and Glenn to find Randall. Apparently he ran off into the woods, somehow..."

Sarah listened quietly to this, with interest. She was beginning to piece together what was going on behind the scenes.

As if noticing her presence again, Lori stopped talking, and took another gulp of water.

Herschel looked worried. "He shouldn't have done that," he said fretfully, "We should all be sticking together."

"That's what I said." Said Lori with a scowl. Sarah noticed her ring on her finger- so Lori was married to Rick? She filed that away for future reference.

Herschel was speaking to Sarah again. "You should get some rest," he said kindly, "We'll wake you up if anything happens."

Sarah opened her mouth to disagree. Although she had been awake for almost two days straight now, and her lids felt like lead, there was no way she could trust these people with her life so easily-

"... And you can have a shower first, if you like. There's hot water."

_There's hot water._

Her mouth closed with a snap. She nodded, suddenly shy.

"Come, I'll show you where." Said Patricia. She obediently got up, leaving her clean plate on the table, and followed her down the passage to the bathroom.

"I'll bring you some clean clothes and a towel." The woman said, closing the door quietly.

Sarah stripped off and got into the shower, and soaked in the hot water for a while. Nothing could have felt so good... she had realised, of course, that they had just offered it to get her out of the room, so that they could discuss this whole "Randall" thing in secret, but she didn't care. She was standing under a jet of hot water, with a full stomach, and even though she knew there was a horde of vicious walkers heading straight for her, she couldn't wish herself anywhere else.

After the shower, she put on the clean clothes Patricia had left, leaving the towel wrapped in a turban around her newly washed hair. While she was in the bathroom, she used the soap to do her best to rinse out her clothes, which she was pretty sure would still smell, but at least the dust and sweat was washed off. She padded out, barefoot, and made her way down the passage. Lori, reading something at the kitchen table, raised her head as she passed by.

"Just going to put these out on the porch." She explained, jerking her head at her stinking boots and clothes. Lori nodded, but watched her until she came in again.

Sarah shook out her hair, already half-dry from the towel, which she'd also left draped over a chair outside. It seemed like these people were beginning to trust her more and more. Or perhaps they could tell she was starting to trust them more... it didn't matter. If they made it through the night, she was leaving, whether they liked it or not. She was done with groups- she'd decided that weeks ago.

"Why don't you get some sleep, on the sofa?" Lori said.

Sarah hesitated, but after that shower, she felt she was likely to fall over at any moment anyway. She lay down on her back, feeling her abused muscles relaxing for the first time in two days. The sofa was very soft... Seconds later, she was fast asleep.

The hours ticked slowly passed on the clock on the mantelpiece. At the table, Lori occasionally turned a page. Around two in the morning, she got up and went to the bathroom. While she was away, a small figure wearing a sheriff's hat stole out of the house quietly, without anybody noticing.

Another hour passed in silence.

Far away, across the fields and out of earshot, a gun went off in the night.

**Author's note:**

**Okay, so this chapter **_**was**_** mostly talking. And a shower. Whoop-dee-friggin'-do. It has turned out a little longer than expected, so guess what... I'm going to be publishing TWO new chapters today, get some action in there! **

**So just click the 'next chapter' button bitches! Ain't that nice?**


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

The walkers, travelling in a massive pack through the woods, would have passed by the farm, but they heard the shot reverberate through the woods. For a second they paused, almost a thousand walkers frozen mid-stride. Then, moving as one, they changed direction, picking up speed and heading for the sound of the gunshot.

_Meanwhile..._

Sarah woke up with a jerk, disorientated. She relaxed somewhat when she remembered where she was, and saw people, not walkers, surrounding her. She stifled a yawn, and swung her legs off the couch, trying to wake her brain up again. It was only three in the morning, according to the clock on the mantelpiece.

The people in the sitting room were talking quietly, but she was still surprised, and a little embarrassed, that she had been sleeping through everything. That just showed how tired she was. Someone had draped a blanket over her as she slept. She felt touched, and folded the blanket carefully, placing it on the arm rest next to her. Carol and a few others glanced over at her briefly as she sat up, but no one seemed too bothered with her presence anymore.

"... I'm going after them." Andrea said, standing up. So Rick and the others were still gone.

T-Dog, Carol, Lori, Herschel, Maggie and Patricia were also there, as well as a younger blonde girl and a young guy Sarah hadn't met yet.

Lori, predictably, was the first one to disagree with Andrea, though Sarah was on her side. It was best to stick together, not go fumbling around in the darkness.

Just then, the front door opened, and Daryl and Glenn appeared, to the relief of the group.

"Rick and Shane ain't back?" Daryl asked, searching the room. His eyes didn't linger on Sarah too long. "We heard a shot."

"Maybe they found Randall?" offered Lori, but Daryl shook his head.

"Nah, we did. He was a walker." He then proceeded to explain the strange tracks they'd found; Randall's and Shane's, walking together.

Sarah listened carefully, but didn't understand much. She didn't know who this Shane character was, but he sounded like he was up to something out there. She stood up and stretched. The others looked at her.

She raised her eyebrows at them. "I'm going to put my boots on." She announced calmly. "If you heard a gunshot, then the walkers probably did." She said to Daryl, matter-of-factly.

There was silence for a few seconds as everyone considered this.

Then Lori stepped forward, "Would you please get back out there, and find my husband?" she asked Daryl.

He nodded. "You got it." He said in a low voice, and walked out.

Glenn and Sarah followed him out, and froze when they saw their worst fears being realised.

Hundreds of walkers were heading across the fields, right towards them.

Daryl swore loudly.

The others came out of the house, barely able to believe their eyes.

Sarah snapped into action. "Where's my bag?" She demanded, catching Andrea's arm.

For a moment Andrea just stared at her. "Well?" she demanded.

"Er... Back of the truck." She answered at last. Sarah went over to the truck, just parked to the side of the house. She decided to leave the bag there, as her best bet was now with the vehicles. There was no way she was cycling again, when she could drive and cover many times the distance. Maybe she could finally get shot of this godforsaken area all-together. She took her blade and strapped on her arm-guards, but decided to leave the shield. She didn't plan on getting too close. Her gun was also in the bag, and so was her box of ammo. She stuffed it in her pocket and removed the safety off the gun.

Glancing back at the others, they seemed disorganised, arguing about what they should do. She felt exasperated. She'd given them fair warning about all of this! And what had they done? Split up and gotten lost, at night, firing off _guns_, for Pete's sake.

Only Daryl, standing slightly apart from the others, seemed calm, observant, analysing the situation.

As she returned to the group, Lori came running out of the house. "I can't find Carl!" she said, panicked. So she had a kid, too? Her husband _and_ her kid was missing... in the middle of the night... during a walker invasion? _That_ was a family with issues. Lori went back into the house with Carol to look again.

Herschel started handing out guns from a black bag.

"We should leave." Said Sarah tightly.

"Since when was it 'we'?" retorted Andrea.

"Sarah's right." Said Daryl, catching her eye. He gave Sarah a small nod. "I got the numbers, it's no use."

"You can go if you want." Said Herschel stubbornly. "We got guns and we've got cars."

"Shoot as many as we can, and then leave?" asked Andrea. Herschel nodded. "This is my farm," he said to Daryl, "I'll die here."

Sarah looked from one to the other. "Alright." He said at last, and hopped down off the porch. "It's as good a night as any." Daryl knew it was a stupid risk, as much as she did. But then, hadn't they all been taking stupid risks recently? Herself included.

Sarah watched him go with a mixture of feelings. She could probably grab a car and make off with it, and all the supplies, while they were distracted. But she knew she wouldn't. She gave a sigh, and grabbed a rifle from Herschel's bag.

"Who're you?" she asked the younger guy she hadn't met yet. He jumped, startled.

"Jimmy." He replied nervously.

"Let's go then." She said, and pointed at the RV. "Does that thing still move?"

Minutes later, they were all speeding away from the house, towards hell itself. Sarah clung to the top of the RV, half her body inside, clinging to the ladder. Ahead she could see Daryl, on an enormous motorbike. It definitely suited him. She wondered if it was fun to ride.

It was about then that they noticed the barn was on fire. Jimmy stopped the RV at the fence, about ten metres away from Daryl, and Sarah picked off a few walkers that were close by. She cursed- her eyesight had never been brilliant, and she was only hitting headshots about half the time. She was wasting too many bullets firing from this distance.

Daryl roared up on his bike to Jimmy's window side. "Might be Rick or Shane that set that fire! Why don't you circle 'round?" he shouted over the gunshots and groans of the walkers.

Jimmy nodded and drove off towards the barn. Sarah gave a feral grin. This was more like it. She was afraid of the walkers, and generally a cautious person by nature, but there was a certain point when she stopped caring. Reckless though it may be, she just wanted to see some walkers as they should be; _dead_.

Now she was close enough, and her shots didn't miss. She ran out of ammo for the shotgun, and took out the smaller handgun, firing in quick succession every time the movement of the RV seemed relatively stable.

The flaming barn drew nearer, and Sarah scanned it for any signs of life. _Someone_ must have set the fire.

"There!" she shouted, spotting Rick and a young boy on the roof of the barn. That was surely Carl? Lori will be happy to see them again, she thought. No sign of this 'Shane' character though. "Pull up on the side of the barn!" she called down to Jimmy, who complied.

She climbed fully out onto the roof of the RV (a fortunate move, as it turned out) and held out a hand to Rick and his son, pulling them to safety.

Rick nodded at her, and was about to say something, when they interrupted by Jimmy's blood-curdling scream of pain and horror.

Sarah looked down and saw him disappearing under the weight of ravenous walkers. She raised her gun, intending to put him out of his misery, but could no longer see him.

"Let's go!" shouted Rick, climbing down the RV.

Sarah turned to follow, but was a little too slow. A walker lunged upwards, groping with one hand at her. She threw herself back, but it had seized a hold of her boot, and the damn thing was scarily strong. She brought her gun up, cautious of shooting her own foot, but got the walker in one shot. Other walkers were following, piling out of the hole in the roof of the RV after her. She didn't have time to climb down, so she slid off in a kind of controlled fall, landing on the ground, hard.

"Come _on_!" shouted Rick.

Sarah swore, but followed him and his boy, knowing they were stranded. They had to find a way back to the house on foot in order to get one of the other vehicles.

"Rick, we'll have to go around- through the woods!" shouted Sarah, taking out a walker with her blade. The sharp blade made short work of their skulls- only one swing was needed per walker. She was starting to regret having left her shield behind, though.

"Okay, this way!" shouted Rick, and they battled their way through the walkers to get to the woods. Sarah went first, carving a path through the walkers with her blade, while Rick took out oncoming walkers before they could overwhelm them.

Soon, they reached the trees, and were instantly at an advantage. Running through broken ground, they were much faster than the walkers, who tended to move slower, stumbling over rocks and roots. It was hair-raising journey though, and Sarah was glad for the burning barn, which served as a beacon reminding them where they were, and also had split the herd of walkers into smaller, more manageable groups.

At last, they reached the house, panting hard. All of the cars, except one, had disappeared, and Sarah could see no one but Herschel, still stubbornly defending his land with his shotgun. She wondered where the others were- whether Daryl had managed to escape. She didn't dwell on it too long- he was capable of taking care of himself. It was time to get out of there.

She went to the car and got the engine going. Rick gave her a look- the thought was crossing his mind- was she going to drive off without them?

"Hurry up!" she yelled, waiting.

Carl got in the car seat behind her, while Rick had a hard time convincing Herschel to come with them. Sarah felt bad for the old man- clearly, this farm meant a lot to him. But life was no longer measured in material goods, or property. It was a bad idea to get attached. She still wished she'd taken her shield though. She loved that thing.

At last, Herschel and Rick were in the car, and Sarah drove off at last, leaving the farm far behind.

As her heart-rate slowly returned to normal, she was forced to ask herself the next big question: stay, or leave them?

She looked across to Rick, and noticed his hands were drenched in someone's blood. She suspected it wasn't a walker's.

What was she going to do next?

**Author's note: **

**I hope you enjoyed that! So, next chapter is when it gets interesting, especially for me, since I won't be restricted in keeping to the tv series as much. I'm thinking that the group are out and about for about 6 or 7 months, right, before they find the prison? So that's plenty of time to have fun with some storylines, new characters etc (which I will probably have to kill off/ have them leave by the time we're back in season 3...). As always, any ideas you peeps have are most welcome!**

**ALSO, did anyone else notice that despite the group being on the road, having a tough time of it for like, at least 6 months, **_**not one of them dies**_**? But at the Atlanta camp, at the farm, and at the prison, they're dropping like flies every episode. **

**Granted, it wouldn't be much of a series if people didn't die during the season. But tv ratings aside, surely that means that keeping moving and mobile is kinda the only way to survive? Sarah's probably on to something there ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Sarah sat on top of the roof of the car, keeping watch for walkers.

Beside the car, Rick, Herschel and Carl leant in the shade of the next vehicle, not saying much. The sun was fully up, and the day was looking to be a scorcher.

They were all waiting for the others to show up, but Sarah didn't hold out much hope. She'd been in this situation before- groups that had seemed unbreakable, until the first sign of trouble. Then the weak were abandoned, left to fend for themselves. Everyone went their separate ways, and were never seen again.

She'd made a mistake, staying with them so long. She should have grabbed a car and scarpered as soon as she'd seen the walkers approaching across the farm- they wouldn't have had time to stop her. But no, somehow she'd been convinced that maybe this group was different, indestructible somehow. They'd seemed so strong, so unified... they'd offered her tea and a shower, and she'd put her life at risk in return! Clearly, she hadn't learnt from previous experiences. _This was why groups sucked._

She picked at the laces of her boots moodily. Her knee was throbbing- she must have injured it falling off the RV- but she could move it alright, so she ignored the pain, not even bothering to look at it. In her opinion, she deserved it. It was the pain of stupidity. By sheer dumb luck, she'd escaped with her life in the last car, with an old man, a young boy and Rick, who was still an unknown element. She was too soft, by far. The only reason she was still with them, was for the vain hope that the blue truck would pitch up; her bag and all her essentials were in the back. But as the day wore on, it seemed less and less likely...

Rick seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

"Carl," he said, going down on one knee in front of his son, "We can't stay here anymore," he looked pale, but determined, "It's not safe-"

Sarah respected his strength. By leaving, he was accepting that he'd probably never see his wife again... but he had to take care of his son, first. She watched the young boy's expression sadly... Then, just as all hope seemed gone, she heard the distant roar of a loud motorbike. It could only belong to one person...

Daryl led the other two vehicles between the abandoned cars on the road, heading straight for the red car. He saw Sarah first, standing atop the car, shading her eyes with one hand, and waving with the other. He felt unexpectedly happy that she'd made it out.

He'd meant to make another sweep of the farm to look for her and Jimmy when he had seen the RV get overrun, but walkers had already blocked the path. It had been a miracle he'd picked up Carol at all. But Sarah was alive and well. He couldn't help a grin, seeing Rick, Carl and even the old man, Herschel, standing there too. By some miracle, it looked like almost all of them had made it out, and found each other again.

Sarah struggled down off the car, careful to avoid landing on her bad knee again, while the rest of the group celebrated their reunion, and mourned their losses. Patricia, Andrea and Jimmy would not be arriving. Sarah went to the blue truck to look for her bag, careful to disguise her limp. It was still there, and intact- she sighed with relief. That done, she had a difficult choice to make. As if hearing her thoughts, Rick turned to her suddenly, with a serious expression.

"Sarah?" he said cautiously, "What are your plans now?"

She hesitated, wavering...

"I wanted to thank you," Rick continued, while she hesitated, "For coming to help my boy and I last night. And the warning- if we'd been caught by surprise by those walkers... I'm not sure we would have made it out." His eyes were sincere. The rest of the group was looking at her, with respect... even gratitude. But not trust. Not yet.

She shifted awkwardly under their gaze. Her heart beat faster- she had to make a decision. She was injured- no, that was an excuse, she could walk and run if she had to. She wanted to get out of the area as soon as possible, but she was also sure they'd be willing to lend her a car if she chose to leave them... She noted that even Rick hadn't explicitly invited her to stay.

Daryl looked at Rick with a slight frown. He seemed different- colder, somehow. "You should stay." Said Daryl quietly. She looked at him, and met his eyes. Daryl looked away, back to Rick. "She's earned her place." He said, quiet but determined. Rick gazed at him for a few moments, then gave a reluctant nod. Daryl looked back at Sarah. Her answer was suddenly obvious.

She gave Daryl a faint smile, then looked back at Rick, eyes steady. "I guess... I'll stick with you guys for a while longer." She answered shyly.

"Good." Said Rick shortly, neither friendly or hostile, and snapped into leader-mode again. They separated into the various vehicles and drove off. This time, Sarah drove along with Carol and T-Dog in the blue truck, since Rick's family was back together again.

"I'm glad you're staying." Said Carol warmly. Sarah was touched, and muttered something unintelligible. She was spared any further embarrassment for the rest of the journey, since she promptly fell asleep leaning against the car window. She had reached the limits of exhaustion, and was lulled into sleep by the movement of the vehicle.

Her last thought before she sank into peaceful unconsciousness was one of optimism. Perhaps... _just maybe_... this group was different. Perhaps... she finally _belonged_.

**Author's note:**

**Hey peeps, sorry for the short chapter and lack of any serious action! But at least we got to see Daryl standing up for his (future) girl! Yay!**

**To make up for the shortness of this chapter, I'll be uploading TWO new, full-length chapters in the next few days, at the same time! And we'll finally see what happens when Sarah and Daryl interact without interference from the others... :D**

**I had the most fun yet writing these next two chapters. Just some editing and tweaking, and they'll be up soon. Look forward to it!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Enjoy, and review! :D**

**CHAPTER 12**

Sarah woke up with a jerk as the cars all came to a rest on the side of the road. Rick's car had run out of gas, and the other vehicles were dangerously low too. Night was coming fast and they were out of options.

Sarah got out, feeling better for her short rest, but the sombre mood of the group was infectious. They were all in shock as a result of their experiences of the night before, the people they had lost, and there was some drama around this "Shane" character... Sarah tried to keep out of it. She reminded herself that she didn't know these people yet, and that she probably wouldn't be staying with them forever.

While the others were sorting out their drama, she limped away from the group to scope out the area. It didn't seem very safe- they were exposed on all sides, and the trees made visibility an issue. Another group of walkers could come right up to them, and they wouldn't know it until it was too late. Nevertheless, she knew they had no choice, and didn't argue when Rick stated they would be camping out.

Down the hill a short distance from the road there was an old ruin, just three walls still standing, but at least it helped to screen the fire they lit as it got darker.

Sarah felt a bit out of sorts in the group, who weren't talking much. There was a latent hostility between them, no doubt a symptom of the trauma and fear they were all experiencing. Around the fire, she somehow found herself sticking close to Daryl. She wasn't quite sure why, but she felt most comfortable with him out of the other members of the group.

It was strange; she hadn't spoken to him, nor him to her, but she felt that by his silence, he had accepted her. He was also the only one who had spoken out on the road; the only one who wanted her there.

The others, though they han't said as much, still had some measure of distrust towards her. She could see it in their eyes. Even Carol, who'd been the kindest to her, was a little stand-offish. She realized that at some point, maybe even from when they'd first met, Daryl had decided she belonged...the others would take more time to convince.

Then Rick had made his "This is not a democracy-" speech, and the atmosphere had gotten even colder. Throughout the day, she'd managed to piece together a lot of the dynamics of the group. Rick's wife had cheated on him with Shane while she thought Rick was dead, then Shane, who was an unstable guy, had gotten jealous of Rick and tried to kill him. He hadn't succeeded- and Sarah could see that Shane's death weighed heavily on Rick's mind. But that was none of her business. If she was going to stay with this group for the foreseeable future, she had to ensure their survival. And that meant they had to start thinking of their next move.

Daryl watched Sarah as she stared into the fire, deep in thought. Her eyes flickered up and caught his. He looked away quickly.

She gave a barely audible sigh, and shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable.

"Ah!" she couldn't quite stifle her gasp as a sudden, stabbing pain in her knee reminded her of her injury. Daryl looked up at her sharply.

"What is it?" asked Herschel, always the doctor (or vet, as it were).

Sarah winced and prodded her knee gingerly. It gave another stabbing pain, but she couldn't tell whether it was bruised or grazed. It must have gotten stiff as she sat in one position so long. "Uh, I think I hurt my knee last night..." she said, knowing how lame she sounded. "I forgot about it." She said truthfully. She started unlacing the boot on her right leg, so that she could pull up the material of her pants-leg and inspect it.

Great, now she had an audience for her wound inspection. Well, she needed the light from the fire to see it, so it wasn't like she could just get up and leave for some privacy.

She pulled the material back, exposing the skin. It wasn't pretty.

"You _really_ didn't feel that all day?" asked Maggie, in a shocked voice.

"Er... No..." admitted Sarah with a forced smile. Looking at it, the pain seemed to have tripled. "I guess not..."

"I'll get my medical kit." Said Herschel decisively, and got up to go rummage in his bags.

Daryl stared- the wound was pretty bad. The whole joint was swollen and puffy, with blue and purple bruising spreading on either side of the knee. The skin of her knee had been stripped off completely, the wound looking white and raw, speckled with beads of blood where she'd cracked half-formed scabs.

"You were _walkin'_ on that?" he asked incredulously.

She shrugged self-consciously. "I have a high pain threshold." She mumbled.

For some reason, Daryl felt annoyed with her. It was the same as the first time he'd met her- she didn't take good enough care of herself.

Herschel came over and started cleaning the wound with disinfectant.

"I take it back!" she gasped, going pale. It felt like the skin was getting ripped off all over again. She lay back, biting her fist. Daryl felt a little sympathetic towards her.

"So," said Daryl casually, "You on your way to Atlanta, when we first met?"

Carol looked at Daryl in surprise, but didn't say anything. It was a little unlike him to make small talk... he was trying to distract her from the pain.

"I was headed... in that general direction." Replied Sarah, eyes squinted shut against the pain. "I didn't have a specific _plan_, exactly..."

Daryl's jaw tightened slightly. So she was just wandering around Georgia, hoping for the best? She needed them, for sure. She couldn't even read a map properly, as he recalled.

"We came from Atlanta." Continued Daryl. "Have you travelled through here before?" he waved vaguely at the road they would be taking the next day.

Rick also leaned forward, taking an interest in the conversation for the first time. The others seemed content to just watch.

"Yeah," responded Sarah, "And I know some places we could check out..."

"When were you going to mention that?" asked Lori tartly.

Sarah shrugged. "I'm mentioning it now, aren't I?" she replied sharply. She wasn't about to put up with Lori's whining. Daryl put some more wood on the fire, keeping a straight face.

"And anyway, the nearest place I know of is more than a day's drive away. We don't have the gas to make it." She explained further. Herschel was binding the wound now- the pain faded to a dull stinging.

"Try not to bend it too much," Herschel warned her, straightening up. Sarah nodded, keeping her leg slightly bent so that she could move around. She'd have to try and keep it at that angle until the scabs formed properly.

"We'll have another look tomorrow, and try and get some air on it so it can heal." Said Herschel, settling back down next to Maggie.

"Thanks." Said Sarah, shifting a little closer to the fire. She glanced up at Daryl. "So you guys came from Atlanta?" he nodded, but seemed to have clammed up again.

"I heard there was a CDC there-"

Daryl was unresponsive, but Rick answered her. He shook his head, then explained briefly what had happened at the CDC, with Dr Jenner.

"Damn." Said Sarah, a little shocked by the drama of their experiences. They really had been through the mill recently. And even the CDC had no new information on the walkers. That was a blow.

"So these places that you mentioned?" prompted Rick, steering the conversation back to practical matters.

Sarah frowned, thinking. "I can't be sure about distances, since I was mainly on foot, but I can give some information on our options." She paused. It felt weird saying _our_. "Like I said, the nearest town or suburb is too far, we need more gas first. And anyway, as I recall, they weren't exactly safe. When I went through Greendale, that's a small suburb, it seemed like there was a walker jumping out of every closet." She shivered slightly, staring into the flames.

"We'll have to take our chances, keep goin'," said Rick decisively. "There should be gas stations, houses, off the road along the way. We just gotta keep moving."

Sarah nodded. After Rick's earlier speech, no one seemed willing to air any negative opinions. The silence was heavy. Only Sarah felt happy- strangely light. It was great to finally talk to people again. Who knew what the next day would bring? Would they survived the night? She'd spent the last few weeks constantly asking herself those two questions. Now the others would have to get used to it too.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

The second night they spent in a run-down house just off the road. After a long day of driving, then stopping at each abandoned car or house they saw, searching for fuel, they were not much further than the previous day. But at least they'd managed to put _some_ distance between them and the farm.

Although the area they were in seemed quiet- they hadn't seen any walkers since the morning- they weren't about to take chances. Daryl volunteered to take first watch. There was an overturned bus about ten metres from the front of the house, and, sitting on top, he could easily watch the road.

Between the bus and the house, they built a small fire to boil water and ward off the darkness as night fell. The light was screened from hostile eyes by the bus and the building.

Sarah walked out of the woods, around the side of the house, carrying more wood for the fire. T-Dog, who sitting on the ground next to the fire, jumped slightly, then exhaled in relief.

"You wanna give me a heart-attack?" he shook his head. "How do you do it- goin' out there in the dark?" he shuddered. "I hope you got enough wood, cause _I_ ain't going to get more."

"I'd hear a walker before I saw it." Replied Sarah absently. She straightened from putting the wood down, careful not to bend her injured knee too much, dusting her hands off. She considered going into the house: most of the group were inside already, getting ready to sleep. They'd eaten well- they still had the supplies on the back of the jeep. But shared out amongst all of them, they knew it would only last a couple of weeks.

She suddenly felt awkward- she was still a stranger to them, and they were all strangers to her. Where would she sleep? And after the day being a passenger in the car, she wasn't particularly tired... her eyes, roaming, fell on the solitary silhouette of Daryl on top of the bus. She smiled slightly.

Daryl felt surprised and a little annoyed as he watched Sarah climb up the side of the bus to join him. She'd brought a blanket from inside the house, and laid it out carefully before sitting on it, a short distance away from him.

He watched her suspiciously. "What are you doin'?" he asked roughly.

She glanced up at him coolly, then shrugged. "I'm not tired." She said simply.

As if that explained it! "So what're y'doin' _here_?" he demanded.

Sarah looked away from him. "Getting away from the others, I guess."

Daryl glared, but she wasn't looking at him. Well, he was kinda doing the same thing... getting away from the group. He preferred his own company.

She'd brought her bag with her, and used it as a back rest, getting comfortable. She stretched her injured knee out in front of her, wincing slightly. Then she simply ignored him, staring out down the road with a serene expression.

At first he felt annoyed, and kept waiting for her to open her mouth and start chattering away. He even planned what he would say when she did, so that she would shut up and leave. But she never said a word, just sitting there. Occasionally she would bring her pair of binoculars to her face, scanning the horizon slowly. Other than that, she just sat there.

When it became apparent that she wasn't going to start chatting away, as he thought all women did, he began to feel awkward. The crickets seemed louder than usual in the still air. Did she expect _him_ to break the silence? He fidgeted, scowling. But she didn't even look in his direction.

After about a half-hour, he realized he'd stopped noticing her presence so much. Somehow the silence didn't seem so awkward anymore. It was comfortable, even. It was a new experience for him- to sit in such companionable silence... especially with a woman.

After a while, Sarah got bored of staring at the road, and got out a pair of pants and a battered-looking travelling sewing kit from her bag. She got to work on the biggest hole, crudely stitching it up as best she could.

"Shouldn't you do that in the light?" said Daryl gruffly, but he wasn't too bothered with her being there anymore.

"I can see." She said mildly. The moon was waning, but still bright since it was such a clear night.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence again. Daryl stole glances at her stitching- she wasn't very good. He'd had to mend his own stuff before, and could do double the work she was doing in half the time. Neater stitches, too. It made him feel a little superior, though he said nothing.

After a while Sarah was done with the pants, and tugged at her shoddy work with a scowl. She put everything back into her bag, letting out a deep, dissatisfied sigh. Daryl hid a smile.

They turned their attention back to the road.

A few minutes later, Sarah leant forwards slightly, bringing her binoculars to her face.

Daryl glanced at her.

"Think I see one." She said quietly.

"Where?" he asked, voice equally soft. Glenn had joined T-Dog by the fire behind them- their hushed conversation could be heard behind them. There was no need to create a panic over nothing.

"There, by that pine tree..."

They watched in silence for a few moments longer, then both relaxed.

"It's headin' away from us." affirmed Daryl.

Sarah nodded, putting her binoculars down.

Daryl glanced at it, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Sarah caught his expression. "I have bad eyesight." Said Sarah defensively, pulling a face.

"Short-sighted?" Daryl asked.

"Mm. I lost my glasses early on." Replied Sarah glumly.

Daryl snorted. "Knew it." He muttered.

"What?" demanded Sarah.

"You seem like the type." He said, with a shrug.

"What is that supposed to mean? I'll have you know," she retorted, "I only had to wear them while driving. Just because I had glasses doesn't _necessarily_ mean I'm a nerd-"

"But you are?" he interrupted her.

She looked a little peeved for a moment. "Well... So what if I was..." She admitted reluctantly.

He gave her a lazy up-and-down look that he'd learnt from Merle. "Top of the class at school?" he guessed. He took her glare as affirmation. "University too, I bet?"

She nodded, scowling. "How can you tell?" she asked.

He shrugged non-committally. "Lucky guess." _And you seem really smart, _he thought privately. He'd never say _that_ to her face.

She pursed her lips. "My turn." She said archly.

Now it was his turn to squirm under her gaze. He scowled at her.

"Hm." She said, narrowing her eyes. "High-school drop-out?" he made no reply. "And then... odd jobs. Maybe something mechanical... a repairs workshop, perhaps? Doing something with your hands."

She took his silence as confirmation, and smirked to herself, having succeeded in turning the tables. But the expression on his face told her that what she'd said had had an unintended consequence- he was no longer in a responsive frame of mind. Instead, he glared out into the night moodily, as if recalling a bad memory.

She blinked at him- she'd known he was the surly type, a man of few words, to be sure, from the first time she'd met him. But was he really this insecure? She bit her lip, re-evaluating her opinion of him. She certainly hadn't meant to imply that she was any _better_ than him- she'd just gone along with his condescending tone and reciprocated. Did he feel ashamed about his past?

"Well, none of that matters now." She muttered awkwardly, trying to steer the conversation into safer territory. "I certainly would have learnt some more _practical_ skills had I known the world would end." she pulled a face. "Like sewing."

He glanced at her, expression taciturn.

"I studied _Shakespeare_ for three years," she told him drily. "Analysing poetry, for God's sake!" she shook her head. "Then again, now that I think about it, I don't recall those skills _ever_ being useful... even Before." She admitted jokingly.

His expression seemed to brighten slightly. "Bet you never did a hard day's work in your life." He said.

She gave a ghost of a smile, happy that he was talking again. "Not in the sense _you_ mean, I'm sure." She conceded, thinking of his calloused hands.

She lay back against her bag, confident she'd mended things between them. She stretched out, looking up at the stars wheeling by in the black night above. She was always amazed at the sheer number of stars- there were no longer any city lights to mute their luminescence. She supposed she'd get used to it, eventually.

Daryl looked at her lying there beside him, feeling conflicted. It was challenging, talking to her. He wasn't sure what to say, which is why he'd slipped into his brother's conversation style briefly...

So far, she hadn't behaved as he'd expected. She'd been right to call him out on his lack of education... but she hadn't pressed the issue. He had been prepared for her laugh at him, or worse, pity him, but... She didn't seem to care at all. She wasn't judging him. Her eyes were reflecting the stars. There was really nothing _special_ about her face, yet suddenly her peaceful expression made her seem quite beautiful...

Sarah stifled a yawn, jarring Daryl from his thoughts. He realized he'd been staring at her, and turned quickly, back to watching the road. Fortunately for him, she hadn't noticed.

"I always told myself I'd have time to find a proper job in the future...I mean, I'm still so young, I wanted to experience the world first, you know?" Sarah said absently.

Daryl shrugged.

"Haven't you ever wanted to travel? See the world?"

He gave a snort. "Nah." He replied. His upbringing never allowed him to entertain such foolish thoughts. "Doesn't matter now, anyways."

"You never know." Responded Sarah, only half-joking, "You're what, mid/late-thirties?" he didn't respond. "Assuming we survive a few years longer, we may yet end up abroad."

He snorted sceptically. "Where'd we go?" he then asked, curious where this conversation was going.

"Canada, maybe..." replied Sarah, mock-serious, "_Definitely_ not south." She caught his eye, mouth quirking up into an impish smile, "A country of Mexican walkers, can you imagine?"

That brought a grin to his face. He looked away, hiding it self-consciously.

Sarah smiled to herself, happy she'd managed to get through to him at last.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. "Was I right? About your age?" she asked curiously.

Daryl frowned at her, a little surprised, then shrugged. He didn't care if she knew. "Yeah," he said, "37."

Sarah nodded, satisfied.

Daryl looked at her guardedly, but was also curious. She looked late twenties, but he couldn't be sure... He hesitated. "You?"

Sarah paused, "How old do you _think_ I am?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I guessed yours first." She pointed out. She noted his stubborn expression. "What?" she asked, sitting up.

"Nothin'." He responded.

"Not even an estimate? How old do I look?"

"I am _not_ answerin' that." Said Daryl flatly.

"Why not?" she asked, eyes mischievous.

He shook his head firmly.

"Come on..." she wheedled.

"Guessing a woman's age..." he explained, "S'the most _dangerous_ thing in the world." He said seriously.

Sarah laughed outright at that.

Down at the fire, T-Dog's mouth dropped open.

"What? What is it?" asked Glenn worriedly, sitting across the fire from him. They were the last ones out, eating before heading to bed.

T-Dog looked at Glenn, eyes wide. "Sarah just laughed- at somethin' _Daryl_ told her." He hissed conspiratorially.

"No way..." said Glenn. They turned in unison to stare up at the two silhouettes on the bus.

Unaware of the controversy he'd sparked below, Daryl lost himself slightly in Sarah's laugh. For the first time, he caught a glimpse of the young woman behind the mask of the callous survivor. And it _did_ take years off her face- he realized she surely couldn't be older than early or mid-twenties. He'd originally thought late twenties, maybe even early thirties, but that seemed preposterous now. She was still so young. Her laugh, brief as it was, had an unrestrained, clear quality to it. He felt the corners of his own mouth tugging upwards in response; he couldn't help it.

When it was quiet once more, he had a foolish longing to hear her laugh again. At that thought, Daryl turned his face away from her self-consciously, glad the darkness hid his faint flush.

"Well, I'm not _telling_ you my age, then." She said, still smiling.

Then there was a long silence- Daryl sneaked a glance back at her. The laughter was fading out of her eyes fast, leaving a deeper sadness, a weariness there, made all the more painful by the ghost of the smile that had preceded it. It was as if the foreign sound of own her laughter had reminded her of all she had lost. Of how she had changed.

The silence grew. "I guess..." She murmured at last, looking past Daryl, "I must look older, after... after everything."

Her lost expression, the same as the one she'd had when he'd first met her, made her seem so vulnerable. As if she might break at any moment, and lose herself in the horror that was now their reality. Just like that first time, when he had felt compelled to call out to her in the clearing, Daryl felt strangely protective towards her. "We've all changed." He said, gruff but sincere. "We're all... different, now."

She looked up- he was looking at her with concerned eyes. Those simple words, spoken without pretence, were enough to remind her that she wasn't going through this alone. Not anymore.

"Yeah." She said softly. She looked away quickly from those disconcertingly blue eyes, as if she'd just looked directly into the sun, "I- I think I'm gonna turn in." She said quietly, and gathered her stuff together. He nodded, even though she wasn't looking at him anymore.

As she descended the bus, he watched her uncertainly. Was she going to be alright? "'Night." He murmured, but she didn't respond. Maybe she hadn't heard him.

He stayed out on the bus for another half-hour. The silence seemed lonelier than usual. Behind him, the fire had died down to glowing coals. At some point T-Dog and Glenn had disappeared inside. After his shift ended, he went into the house, and shook T-Dog's shoulder to get him up for the next watch. For some reason, T-Dog seemed a little friendlier than usual towards him, which he thought was weird.

The house was small, but there was still space for him at the back of the room. He stepped quietly around the sleeping bodies of the group, almost unconsciously doing a head-count. They were all there- he remembered to add the extra head for Sarah. He wondered briefly how long she would be staying with them. He spotted her; she was still awake, watching him with sleepy eyes from a threadbare sofa in the corner of the room.

"'Night." She whispered, so quiet he almost didn't hear it, as he passed her.

As he lay down to sleep in the dark, he realized he had a faint smile on his face. A curious sense of optimism filled him, but he couldn't quite place the reason why.

**Author's note:**

**Mm, long chapter! What do you people think? They have chemistry, but are still getting to know each other... and T-Dog and Glenn, and I suspect even Carol, have already noticed their increasing **_**closeness**_**... hehe! **

**Next chapter will be less talking, more action :D that's the plan, anyhow. Expect it out in a week or so!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note:**

**I know I said this would be out in a week from the last chapter, but hey, I finished it early!**

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites! Keep 'em coming!**

**This chapter deals with Sarah's integration with the group in the first week.**

**Sorry if the narration style is a little confusing... I'm going for an omniscient narrator, but I cheat sometimes by zooming in on the individual characters' perspectives, flipping between characters often... It's because I usually write bits and pieces, and then try and put it all together. And I'm too lazy to rewrite perspectives and "he said, she said's"! Just bear with me! :D Enjoy!**

**CHAPTER 14**

The next night Daryl volunteered for the first watch, and after a short while, Sarah joined him. She had a packet of chocolate-chip biscuits that she fished out of her bag, and she munched away quietly, occasionally offering one to Daryl, who'd take one with a wordless nod. He'd hesitated at first- thinking the food should be shared with the group- but then he'd thought, _What the hell_. The sugar would help them stay awake. They didn't talk, but simply sat together in companionable silence.

After two hours, Daryl went in and Sarah stayed out and took the second watch as well. She relished the quietness of the next watch- the silence was bittersweet, but she needed the time alone to think about things. After spending three weeks without speaking to another soul, she had her own period of adjustment to get through.

During the day, travelling by vehicle and stopping often to scavenge carefully through any cars or buildings they came across along the way, the rest of the group kept largely to themselves. When they talked, it was between themselves. Maggie and Glenn spent all of their time together, and Rick's family was also at times an impenetrable unit. Something had broken between Lori and Rick, probably as a result of the whole Shane situation, but they still had Carl to unite them.

Whenever the group stopped during the day, Sarah found herself gravitating towards Carl, rather than the rest of the group. Daryl was usually preoccupied with something, hunting or helping the other men scavenge buildings and so on. She felt awkward hanging around the women, who would either go quiet while she was around, or try to make conversation, which was somehow worse. She hadn't quite managed to get past making small pleasantries and casual remarks, so she found herself naturally accepting the more solitary role of keeping watch, which also happened to be Carl's usual job.

She could relax in his presence- she'd always been good with kids. The first day she'd kept watch with him, a walker had come towards them out of the trees.

"Chill out," she'd said to him, as he'd prepared to call out to the group, "I've got this." She strode forwards, unsheathing her blade as she did.

Carl watched with wide eyes.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "See, you gotta be smart about it. First, make sure the bastard's alone, before you make any noise, like calling out." The walker stumbled closer, arms outstretched, grasping. "Second, make sure you have space to manoeuvre," she continued, keeping distance with the walker, "And thirdly," she raised her blade, "Make sure you get 'em in one swing!" she darted forwards and slightly to the side, keeping out of grabbing range, then swung down her blade with all her might. Its skull was split diagonally, and it dropped like a stone.

The blade was stuck slightly- she had to twist and wrench it out with a grunt of effort. She turned back to Carl- he looked a little pale, but his eyes shone with admiration. "See?" She said, "One swing. And you have to be aware of your environment, 'cause if there's more about, you need to be able to move quick."

From that moment, Carl took every watch with her, and often bombarded her with walker-killing questions and hypothetical scenarios when they were out of earshot of Rick and his mother. She was a little concerned at first by his bloodthirsty interest, but she tried to answer his questions as best she could, always stressing the danger of underestimating them. She took pity on the kid- he was still so young, in a world as rotten as this. And Rick and Lori still treated him like a little kid. It must be lonely, not having any friends his age.

As the days wore on, Sarah started slipping into a routine. She would drive with T-Dog and Carol when they were using the vehicles, and then take watches with Carl during the day. As night fell, she'd go up and join Daryl for the first watch. Maggie and Glenn usually did their watches together, as did Herschel and Beth, so it wasn't a odd thing for them to keep each other company.

Even Daryl got used to it after a while. They didn't always talk, but somehow the hours seemed to go much faster when there was two.

One week after they had left the farm, Daryl came back late from hunting some squirrels in the woods. Sarah was already on the first watch. Daryl dithered a little, then took a plate of food for her and himself. He figured he owed her for the biscuits the other night. As he passed her plate over, he'd intended to return to the campfire, but then she'd looked up at him quizzically.

"Can I borrow your whetstone... Or whatever you use... to, you know, to sharpen a knife..." the colour rose in her cheeks slightly, knowing she was betraying her ignorance with each successive word.

He'd rolled his eyes at her cluelessness, and held out his hand for it, wanting to judge the sharpness for himself (not trusting her university education to have prepared her for these things). She obediently handed over the knife, (a small pocket-knife, not the one she'd previously killed people with...) and waited for the verdict.

The knife was ridiculously blunt, and he told her so with eyebrows raised, amused at her inexperience. She should have sharpened it ages ago- it was worse than useless.

"Oh." She'd said, embarrassed.

He fended off her attempt to take it back, and pocketed it, explaining with a casual shrug that he'd sharpen it himself for her later. She didn't argue, knowing she would probably have made a mess of it anyway.

After that, somehow Daryl found himself sitting with her to finish his meal. When he'd finished eating, he could think of no _pressing_ reason to leave, so he stayed out with her as per usual until the end of the watch.

And just like that, it had become an unspoken routine. Whether it was Sarah or Daryl who went to sit a watch first, the other would join them sooner or later.

Out of the other members of the group, Herschel seemed most kindly disposed towards Sarah, taking an interest in assessing her knee and enquiring after the pain every morning for the next few days, until the swelling went down and the scabs had formed. But even Herschel had his family, and with Maggie preoccupied with Glenn, he was understandably focussed on Beth. They were both still adjusting to the losses of Patricia and Jimmy.

Sarah, Carol, T-Dog and Daryl were the only ones without family (Glenn seemed to have been accepted into Herschel's). Carol didn't make an effort to speak to her much, but Sarah often felt her eyes on her. Daryl, taciturn and largely a 'man of action', didn't say more than was necessary, but at least there was no difference in his treatment of her and the others. Around him, she felt like she'd _always_ been a part of the group.

T-Dog was the only other member of the group to take an interest in getting to know Sarah on a personal level. He'd ask her some questions about where she was from, what she did Before, what manner of groups had she been with? He was a talkative, easygoing guy, but somehow Sarah found it harder to talk to him than it was talking to Daryl.

After so long of being alone, and not trusting others, she was uncomfortable pouring out her life-story to all and sundry. She'd spent so long trying to ignore her past, to bury the memories, good and bad- dwelling too long on either only led to pain. Another factor was that talking about the past felt like telling a lie. She was no longer the same person she'd been even just a month ago- retelling her past was like telling the story of another person, another life. She didn't want to be judged based on the person she _used_ to be.

As a result, her responses were short, abrupt and generally uninformative. After a while, even T-Dog was forced to give up and they lapsed into an awkward silence, so different from the silence she'd shared with Daryl that night on the bus.

T-Dog couldn't wrap his head around it. She refused to talk to him; his attempts at conversation were met with terse, monosyllabic answers and a wooden expression. The only time she seemed to relax was when he talked about himself, or debated what they should do in the future. Yet every night, she went to go and sit watches with Daryl, and then she seemed completely at ease. After that night on the bus though, he noted they didn't seem to be talking much, if at all. He couldn't understand it.

Eight days since leaving the farm, he went over to talk to Carol. They had stopped for the day on the bank of a narrow stream that went under the road, and were using the last hours of daylight to do some much-needed washing.

"Hey." He said, accepting the offered bar of soap from Carol. He crouched at the water's edge and started scrubbing one of his shirts vigorously.

She glanced up at him from her own washing, waiting for him to start talking. T-Dog was easy to read- when he had something on his mind, his usual, relaxed expression would be replaced by deep frown-lines across his brow. It was so obvious it was almost comical.

"So... Whaddya think about Sarah?" he asked abruptly. So _that_ was what was behind his troubled expression.

"I don't know yet." Answered Carol truthfully, "She seems okay."

He nodded, but still looked troubled. "I dunno... I've been tryin' to talk to her, y'know? Tryin' to figure her out." He shook his head, and waved his hand across his face, "But it's just like, _nothin'_? I don't get it. I mean, you shoulda seen the way she was chattin' away to _Daryl_ the other night-"

"What?" Carol straightened up, surprised.

"I know right? It's bizarre! They were havin' a fat chat, just them. With me- nothin'."

Carol was baffled. How had _that_ happened? She hadn't taken any watches since they'd left the farm, so she hadn't noticed them spending time together. During the day she'd never once seen them have a conversation.

"I got a theory," continued T-Dog, lowering his voice dramatically, "I reckon she's like a... a _female Daryl_." He chuckled. "It's the only thing that explains it!"

Carol shook her head, but smiled at the strangeness of the thought, "She's quiet, but otherwise she's nothing like him." She said firmly.

T-Dog shrugged. Hadn't the woman just said she didn't know enough about her to make a judgement? Well, he wasn't about to get into an argument about it.

Carol went back to her washing, rinsing the clothing out busily. Internally though, her head was spinning with the possibilities. She abruptly straightened up again, as a thought suddenly struck her. She frowned at T-Dog. "You don't think she... _and Daryl_..."

T-Dog's eyebrows flew up. He blew out through his cheeks, "Jeez... I guess it's possible?" he said. A man and a woman, it was possible, right? His eyes fell on the distant figure of Daryl, who was half-sitting on the bonnet of a car, busily skinning a squirrel or some similarly unfortunate furry animal with single-minded intensity. Sarah was on the other side of the camp, keeping watch with Carl. She was standing with poise and attitude, looking... well, _cool_. Carl seemed to be staring up at her with a slightly awestruck expression. "Nope." T-Dog corrected himself. "Not possible."

"She's too young for him, anyway." Said Carol dismissively, picking up the washing again.

"Not necessarily," replied T-Dog after a moment, "I don't reckon age matters so much. Most of the population's dead anyhow! An' she's plenty mature for her age."

Carol looked up at him pensively.

"Nah," he continued, "They jus' don't strike me as the kinda people to be y'know, _aware_ of that kinda thing. 'Specially Daryl!" He laughed, wringing out his shirt. It was impossible to imagine Daryl in a normal, loving relationship... like Glenn had, for instance. It was just impossible. And in his opinion, Sarah was _way_ out of his league anyway. The girl had style, and smarts, and a proper upbringing. After trying to get a fix on her character for the last week, he at least knew _that_ much. But there was still a lot about her that was a mystery. "I'm tellin' you," he continued, "There's more to that girl than she's lettin' on. Did Daryl ever mention t'you how he met her?"

Carol shook her head. "I think he's only told Rick about it." She replied thoughtfully.

T-Dog shrugged. "Thought he might have mentioned somethin' to _you_..." he said. Carol pursed her lips, stung. He didn't notice. "I'm not one to pry," he continued, with a serious expression, "But... when I asked her 'bout it? She shut up pretty damn fast. I'd be interested in hearin' _that_ story."

Carol nodded slowly. "Me, too."

"An' hell, maybe we have a right t'know?" he said suddenly, "She's sleepin' in the same room as us an' all."

"I don't think she's a threat." Carol said fairly, "You're just over-thinking it."

"Maybe." Admitted T-Dog, and turned to go.

Carol watched him leave.

Her eyes slid up to Daryl, sitting further away, still disembowelling some animal. Since he'd yelled at her that night at the farm, things had slowly mended between them. If anything, she felt they understood each other a little more now. He was no longer pushing her away so much- he seemed more considerate and approachable than ever since they'd left the farm.

Perhaps she would test that theory and ask him about how he met Sarah.

**Author's note:**

**Ooh interesting, will Daryl tell her? **_**Should **_**he? Keeping secrets is dangerous in a small group.**

**Wouldn't this be hilarious if it was an episode of How I Met Your Mother: "Well kids," (says Daryl), "I stalked your mom in a forest, toting a crossbow, and then watched her gun down four people. It was love at first sight." LOL.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note:**

**Thanks for the great reviews, keep them coming! Especially the long ones, I love discussing characters and plot-points with you peeps.**

**Seriously, if you think I'm going off on a tangent/ am not being true to a character, pls let me know!**

**CHAPTER 15**

The next day they set off early on the road again, travelling in close formation. They were following Sarah's map and Herschel's directions to the suburb she'd mentioned, Greendale. It was their best bet for scrounging for petrol- there was bound to be cars there. Also, they might be able to pick up supplies or tools if need be. But that area had been overrun the last time Sarah had been through, about two weeks previous. Beyond the suburb, according to Herschel, was a large farmstead that they might be interested in checking out... but they needed more gas to get there. And that meant risking the residential area.

She hoped the walkers had migrated out by now. She thought aiming for the suburb was as good a plan as any for the moment, but she worried that if everything they hoped for came true, if they eventually made it to the farm and it was secure and quiet... They may be tempted to repeat the mistakes of the past. At the first opportunity, they would want to settle, hunker down, dig in... They were in denial. Just because a place may seem safe, the truth was very different. Fences and walls weren't enough to keep the horrors of this new world at bay. What did they expect? That if they could last long enough hiding in hole, they'd come out someday and the world would be back to normal?

No one was going to rescue them. There was no grand scheme, no imminent moment of redemption for humanity. Sarah was not without hope for the future- she wanted to survive, and believed that with a bit of luck and a hefty dose of common sense, she could. There had to be somewhere that they could start a new life... She had some fantasies of life on a big boat...

The world had changed, and the old ways would not save them now. They had to adapt or die, and that meant resisting the urge to barricade themselves into a trap.

She was thoroughly convinced of all of these points, but didn't relish leaving the group... they seemed like good people. But if they showed no intention of moving on, she promised herself that she would have to say goodbye... and therefore she should try not to get _too_ attached.

Her mind was full of these dark thoughts, when Rick's vehicle, travelling at the front of the convoy, slowed to a halt.

"What's goin' on?" asked T-Dog out of the window, pulling up beside Rick's car, but Sarah had already seen what was up ahead. A thin column of smoke- someone's campfire, perhaps? The road looked like it curved, and it was possible that behind that curve... there were people.

Under Rick's directions, they drove the cars back a short ways, and then got them off the road, using the surrounding trees to hide their presence. Then Rick announced he'd be going with Daryl to scout out the area. If their way was blocked, they would have to take a large detour to find another route around. After a moment's consideration, Sarah stepped forward. "Can I come with?" she asked quietly, light blue eyes serious. If there was a threat, she wanted to be the first to know about it.

Rick sized her up. From what Daryl had told him, she was a good shot. That could be handy if the shit hit the fan. He nodded without comment.

The rest of the group anxiously watched them leave, keeping close to the cars in case they needed to make a quick escape.

The three of them, using the tree-line as cover, moved stealthily in the direction of the smoke, parallel to the road. Daryl moved first, his hunter's eyes not missing anything, while Sarah followed in his footsteps. She'd left her bulky pack behind, and had her blade in its sheath on her bag, her gun and a box of ammo, and of course, her concealed knife. Her knee was better- although she still favoured her other leg, the limp was not as pronounced. It would be painful, but she knew she had the full range of movement of the joint if she needed to suddenly break into a sprint.

Rick brought up the rear, keeping his eyes on Sarah and the forest around them. This was an interesting opportunity for him to observe her, and judge for herself whether he'd made the right call in allowing her into the group.

Daryl slowed, hearing voices up ahead. He gestured to Sarah and Rick to be quiet- they inched forward. At last, they could see what was around the bend in the road.

Two large covered trucks had been parked off the side of the road, and a camp had been set up; large canvas tents had been arranged around a large smouldering campfire; the source of the smoke. Roughly twenty men could be seen in the camp, from Sarah's head-count, and something about them and their vehicles seemed familiar...

Daryl looked to Sarah, struck by the same thought. "What d'ya think?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"They're the same guys as the others." Said Sarah firmly. It was obvious what she was referring to. Daryl nodded his agreement. "I think so too."

Rick's eyes widened- it was true, the vehicles were the same make as the jeep Daryl had brought back to camp. This complicated things... this group's relationship with the other four men, who Sarah had killed, was an unknown... "You sure?" Rick asked.

Daryl nodded. "'Hundred percent."

Some were wearing civilian clothing, but all looked fit, trained even, and most had dark green pants, and what looked like military-issue boots. They were all carrying weapons, and seemed pretty comfortable with them. By his estimation, Rick guessed they had run out on the army early on, for them to have so much gear intact. Possibly, they'd picked up some other thugs along the way. They were all older men, _hard_ looking men... Rick wanted to believe they'd be different from those that Sarah had... _encountered_... but if he judged wrong, they could all be dead.

Rick nodded. In silence they returned to the group. Rick weighed up their options as they walked.

Everyone clamoured to know what they'd found. Rick briefly described what they'd seen. During his description, he had to mention that the connection between the men on the road and the camp that Sarah and Daryl had gotten the jeep from. Somehow, he managed to make it sound like the camp had been deserted when Sarah and Daryl had found it, without explicitly lying. Sarah made no comment, but was grateful for his discretion. The group, so far, were ignorant of the whole story, without knowing it.

Glenn and Maggie stood together. Sometime during Rick's explanation Maggie's hand had found his. "If they're army, maybe they can help us-" said Maggie hopefully.

Herschel shook his head, "That doesn't necessarily mean they intend to uphold the law." He pointed out. "It's not even certain they _are_ military... they could be opportunists that took advantage of the chaos in the early days."

"We can't trust them." said Glenn, looking at Maggie with a worried expression. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"There's no way of knowing whether they are friendly or not." Said Rick firmly. "We can't risk exposing ourselves."

"But we need to get past them." Sarah pointed out. Rick looked at her questioningly. She raised her eyebrows at him. "We don't have the gas to make it in a long detour... we'll run out before we reach that last turnoff again."

"We can lose one of the cars, siphon off the gas." He replied firmly. "We have no other options."

"Could you tell which direction they were travelling in?" asked Lori.

"No," replied Rick shortly, without looking at her. Their relationship was definitely getting more and more frigid as the days wore on.

Sarah was loath to backtrack yet again... it was a survivors' wasteland in the direction they'd come from. Sometimes risks were worth it... "If I was alone, I know what _I'd_ do-" said Sarah casually, inspecting her fingernails.

"No." said Daryl instantly, making a shrugging movement with his shoulders, as if the thought had offended him.

"That won't be necessary." asserted Rick hastily, at the same time.

Both men were staring at her as if she was mad.

"Okay, okay," said Sarah defensively, "It was just a suggestion, jeez."

"Er... what were you suggesting, exactly?" asked T-Dog, mirroring the others' confusion. Sarah looked away from their questioning expressions. She didn't fancy getting into a debate about morals... she would do what she needed to, if the situation demanded it. She noted that Herschel didn't look confused... Had Rick confided in him already about her?

It would make sense- Herschel was no fool, and Rick trusted him. Was that why the old man had shown an interest in her, beyond her injured leg? That was surprisingly manipulative... she was impressed. Whatever his reasons, it seemed like she'd already passed the test; she had not detected any hostility or distrust from him in all their dealings.

She turned back to Rick, ignoring T-Dog's question. She wasn't really sure _why_ she was volunteering. All she knew was that they needed to get past this obstacle... "No one else would be at risk; it's the quickest way to find out if they-"

Rick glared. "_No_." He said firmly, "That's not the way we do things! End of discussion."

Sarah backed down at last, with a shrug, avoiding the challenge of his stare.

Daryl was also glaring at her. Seeing her admit defeat, he abruptly turned away, and stalked off to his motorbike without another word.

Carol looked at Sarah, eyebrows raised. What would she have done that Daryl and Rick disagreed so strongly with? "What-" she started.

"None of that matters now," Rick interrupted her hastily, addressing the group, "There's nothin' for it, we'll have to find another road, backtrack a bit. Glenn, siphon the gas off that jeep and move the supplies to the truck... We're leavin' it behind. We don't want to risk being seen with a vehicle that used to belong to them." He explained.

Sarah looked at him, impressed. She hadn't thought of that.

"Let's get goin'." He ordered.

They returned back to their vehicles, and pulled away, heading back the way they'd come. Fleeing, not from walkers, but from a foe _infinitely_ more dangerous...

**Author's note:**

**Is this the last we'll see of this (potentially) dangerous group of heavily armed guys? Mmm... for now, at least :D**

**Sorry about the constant army-hating, but it's true that the military does attract some scary guys. And especially in the American military, do you know the statistics of rape of female military peeps, especially by their superior officers? It's friggin' scary stuff.**

**I'm also assuming that the **_**good**_** military guys probably died early on being heroic and shit in the beginning, trying to save people, on the walker frontlines.**

**I'm kinda going along with the assumption that people who survive the first onslaught are either lucky, or badasses (like Daryl and Merle), or rely on the strength in unity of their group (Rick, the Governor?) or are simply willing to become **_**as ruthless as is necessary**_**...**

**At times, it seems like Sarah may fall into that last category... But though she made the suggestion to use herself as bait to test the waters, so to speak... had she really thought it through? With 20 guys, if things went south it would be suicide. So why did she suggest it, if it's not logical?**

**Her reasoning will be explored in the next chapter! Look forward to it! Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

Sarah was right. They ran out of fuel before they reached the next turnoff, and then they were stranded. Luckily for them, the section of the road was lined with shops and some houses, which they had already picked clean, but at least they would provide some shelter for the night. On Rick's instructions they pushed the cars out of sight around the corner of one house, and then got to work setting up their camp, and making it secure as possible. They had no choice now but to stay put and make it their base, while they searched on foot for gas up the next turnoff, where they hadn't been yet.

Sarah got a bottle of water out of their supplies and took a few large gulps. She sighed- it was lukewarm from the heat of the day. They hadn't gotten far; the sun was still high in the sky. She could have drank two bottles, she was so thirsty, but water was another precious commodity now, that was fast running out. _Maybe Daryl and I can go looking for a stream or something..._

He was busy unloading their kit from the blue truck. She walked towards him, and opened her mouth to make her suggestion. He glanced up and saw her, and scowled. She stopped, uncertain, watching him. His movements betrayed his mind- he was angry. She dithered, and then decided to leave- she had no desire to speak to him if he was in a mood. But before she could leave, he finally spoke.

"Did y'really mean it earlier, when you offered to- y'know?" he asked abruptly. She blinked at his tone.

She nodded cautiously. His frown deepened. "_Why_?" he demanded.

"What?"

"Why'd you offer?"

She was a little thrown off-guard by this question. "Well, we needed the gas, and-" she scrambled to put her justifications into words.

He shook his head, and interrupted her, "Nah, that's not it. Why'd you offer to risk your own life? You have everybody here- s'no longer jus' you."

She frowned at him, but couldn't quite think of what to say. She had just been logical about it- it was the quickest way to ensure their survival. Wasn't it?

He noted her confusion, and nodded. "You don't even know, do you?" he said. His voice was quieter now- the anger had faded. He folded his arms, and met her eyes squarely. "I don't know what you've been through, t'make you like that," he said slowly, "But s'different now. You can't go making those decisions anymore."

She bristled- who did he think he was, judging her? "It's none of your business, the decisions I make." She snarled, defensively. Her voice was cold.

"It is if it's a _stupid_ decision," he retorted, "If your stayin' with us, your decisions effect all o' us."

She glared at him, then turned on her heel and strode off, heading for the other side of the camp. She stopped in the shade of a tree, and realised she was breathing hard. She took another gulp of water from her water bottle, which she'd forgotten was still clenched in her hand. Her head slowly cleared from the anger at Daryl's harsh words. Maybe he was right? Maybe she was _wrong_, maybe everything she'd done to "ensure her survival", as she'd justified it, was simply _wrong_. She looked down at her hands- they were shaking slightly. She remembered several occasions when they'd been soaked in blood, not walkers', but humans'... Her palms were coated in dust, not blood, but she knew the truth. There were bloodstains there that may never come out.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw Carl staring at her, trying to be discreet about it, with a thoughtful frown. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. Colour rose to his face instantly, and then he hesitated, looking at his shoes for a few long moments. Then, he evidently came to some kind of decision, and approached her.

"You wanna go take the watch?" he asked her, voice too serious for a boy his age.

She smiled at him, trying to push her self-doubt away for the moment. "Sure." She replied.

Just then Lori appeared, as if out of nowhere. She'd heard their exchange. "Carl!" she called, "I need you to help me move our stuff inside." Her voice was stern- and Sarah was taken aback by the look of hostility that came her way.

"But-" Carl started arguing.

"Now, Carl!" His mother said firmly, and held out a hand to usher him away from Sarah. Head a little bowed, he cast a regretful glance back at Sarah over his shoulder, but obediently headed away with his mother. As she walked away with him, she gave a meaningful glare over her shoulder at Sarah. The message was clear- _you are not to go near my son_.

Sarah stood there, feeling a little numb. It was clear what had happened- while they were on the way, Rick must have told Lori about what her "suggestion" might have entailed. And Carl had heard too- of course, he was in the car with them. While Carl, like Herschel, Daryl and Rick, seemed to have accepted her despite knowing, clearly Lori was not convinced. She tried not to feel too hurt- she was just looking out for her son- but somehow that hostility was getting to her. She scowled at her feet, then looked up. Carol and T-Dog were also staring at her, having seen Lori's reaction.

She suddenly felt fed up with the lot of them- who were they to judge her? She stalked off to take the first watch before anyone else tried to talk to her.

Carol watched her go, and then made a decision. Daryl was around the other side of the house they had chosen to stay in, boarding up a hole in the back fence so that they could be protected from that side. Everyone else was busy- they could talk in private.

"Hey, you," she said, and offered him a bottle of water.

Daryl straightened up, accepting it gratefully. It was a hot day. "How much o' these do we have left?" he asked her, always practical.

"Not enough," replied Carol, "But you have to drink _something_ during the day." She said sternly, as he hesitated. He rolled his eyes at her, but drank half of it anyway. He offered it back to her- she refused. He shrugged and put it down on the ground next to the toolbox for later. He carried on hammering in the nails into the planks.

Carol nonchalantly leant back against the side of the house, in the shade. "So," she started, "Sarah." He glanced up at her, but didn't say anything. "You've been spending some time with her, on watches..." he nodded, wondering where she was going with this. "Earlier, on the road, what was she offering to do?" she asked curiously.

"Somethin' really stupid," said Daryl, a scowl rising to his face again.

Carol raised an eyebrow at him. He hesitated. "She was offerin' to basically be a matyr, to... to approach the group an' see what happens." He snorted, shaking his head. "Really stupid."

Carol was surprised- it was not what she'd expected to hear. But there had to be more to the story. She decided to cut the crap. "What happened, when you first met her? And don't tell me you just found the jeep and all the supplies just standing there, for the taking." She said firmly.

This time Daryl stopped what he was doing entirely, and straightened up, feeling conflicted. He gave a sigh. "Look," he said slowly, "I don't reckon Sarah's a danger to us." His gaze was firm. "But she's done some things, been through some shit... I don't care, s'none o' my business." His words echoed Sarah's. "If you want t'know more 'bout her, you'd be better off askin' _her_."

Carol was disappointed- so he wouldn't tell her, but he would tell Rick? She tried not to feel too offended. Daryl seemed to guess what was on her mind. "I don't think any o' us should try an' judge her without getting the whole story." He explained.

She could see he wouldn't back down. She nodded, reluctantly.

He shifted, and looked away. "An' I'm thinkin', maybe she _needs_ to talk 'bout it, y'know?" He confided in her. He was thinking about the hurt and anger that had flashed across Sarah's face during their last conversation.

"If she needs to talk, why don't you ask her? You seem to get on with her better than anyone else at the moment." Reasoned Carol.

He looked surprised, and a little disbelieving. "Nah," he said, with a self-conscious shrug, "You're better at that shit than me anyway..." he mumbled. He looked up at her, a little expectantly.

"You're really worried about her, aren't you?" marvelled Carol.

He shook his head, uncomfortable, "Nah, it's jus'... I think she's been alone too long, y'know? Somethin's got her messed up."

"Well, we all need help, sometimes," remarked Carol, her thoughts flashing back to how Daryl had been such a comfort to her when she'd lost Sofia, "I'll see what I can do." She promised.

**Author's note:**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter :-) Please leave reviews, I write faster when I have feedback from you peeps!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note:**

**Thanks for the awesome reviews! I got super inspired and decided to work an extra few hours on a few chaps. The others will be up in a couple of days :) You can thank the peeps who reviewed for getting me to knuckle down and type this up. It's quite a heavy chap, so I think I would have procrastinated so much more without the motivation your reviews gave me.**

**The ****first part**** of this chapter's soundtrack is: (rather fittingly)**

**"Blood on my hands" -the Used**

**Or, if you're feeling extra creepy today ;) "Tourniquet" - Rasputina**

**CHAPTER 17**

_Sarah's arm was throbbing- each time she fired the gun in her hands, the strong kickback caused the bone-deep ache to worm its way further up her arm. The gun was a large, heavy thing, and she wasn't used to it. Although she'd fired one-handed in the beginning, the weight and balance had soon caused her to bring both hands up to keep it steady._

_She turned a body over with one foot, checking for signs of life._

Nice backpack_, she thought to herself, making a mental note to return and remove it from the body. She didn't have anything like it, and the highly practical instincts which had suddenly awakened inside of her told her she'd need it. She would soon be alone and on the road for the first time._

_She was still regarding the backpack with a slightly glazed-over look, when she became aware that she was not _quite_ alone just yet. There was a man and a woman hiding behind the last vehicle, not too far away- they were the only two left standing. The others were all dead, it seemed, bleeding on the ground from the bullets she'd put in them. When had that happened? Surely only seconds ago, but somehow her memory seemed a little fuzzy. _

_She backed up to a tree, in case they had weapons, reloading clumsily. Face blank, she noted with a kind of detached interest as a walker stumbled out of the woods, and lurched towards her. _

_Strange, they didn't seem scary anymore. They were just dead- what was there to fear? Everyone died. Everyone was dead._

_Her newfound, coldly logical mind then lit upon an idea, and her body, still on autopilot, obeyed the whim without hesitation. She stepped forward, and yanked on the walker's sleeve, using the walker's momentum to swing it roughly in the direction of the last vehicle. It worked perfectly- the walker fell onto the side of the car, prompting a scream from the woman. The walker quickly forgot about Sarah, and lunged for this new, louder prey. Sarah waited coolly for the two to make a run for it, raising the gun to shoulder height again. She took a deep breath, dragging oxygen into her lungs. Every breath was a conscious effort- she felt like she was under-water. Sound seemed muffled; she could barely hear anything through the ringing in her ears. Was that because of the gunfire? She hated guns. She wished she'd never... _

_Her finger squeezed the trigger, and the gun kicked back again into her aching muscles._

_"Tch." She tutted to herself. She'd missed- only clipping the woman's shoulder. Well, at least she was on the ground. She frowned at the gun, a little troubled, then her expression cleared. _Oh, that's why_, she thought, noticing the blood on her hands. _M' finger must have slipped_._

_She carefully wiped her palms on the leg of her pants, strolling forwards slowly. The man was trying to pull the injured woman away, half-dragging her up_. Huh, so they didn't have a weapon on them_, she realized. They would have shot at her by now if they did. The man's mouth was moving desperately, but Sarah couldn't tell if he was pleading or cursing at her. Her senses didn't seem to be working at the moment. Her world was a silent film, had a dream-like quality to it._

_Hands less sticky, she raised the gun again, and this time, she didn't miss. Her first bullet hit the screaming man in the head, dropping him like a stone. His body fell on top of the feebly-moving woman, who started screaming instead._ So much drama... Aren't you tired of it?_ Sarah wondered. She felt so tired, she could sleep for years. Her limbs felt like lead, and every breath was an effort. She'd give anything to close her eyes and curl up somewhere, out of sight. _

_Her second bullet found its mark in the walker, halting its attempts to bite the woman's feet. She walked over to the woman and stared down at her, swaying slightly, as if drunk. She recognised her vaguely- hadn't she eaten supper with her, just the night before? Her name was Rona... or, or Regina... Her hearing seemed to be returning slowly, like a radio with bad signal._

_The woman was sobbing, plucking weakly at the dead man's shirt. "How could you...?! Please... No, Sarah!... Sarah?"_

_Sarah aimed carefully between the woman's eyes. "Easy, isn't it?" she mumbled. She wasn't sure who she was talking to. She fired._

_The road was full of corpses. The woman's last cries seemed to echo in the abrupt silence..._

_"Please... No, Sarah!... Sarah?"_

"Sarah?"

Sarah jerked awake. Carol's hand was on her shoulder.

She gave a small gasp, shrinking away from the touch.

"Good, you're up." Carol said, and withdrew. Sarah blinked quickly, feeling her heart racing from the intensity of the dream. Or rather, the memory. It had seemed so real, as if it had only happened yesterday, not two whole months ago. "You okay?" Carol asked, peering uncertainly at her face.

Sarah nodded, avoiding Carol's gaze, and pulled herself fully upright on the threadbare sofa. She raised a shaky hand to her face- she was drenched in a cold sweat, and the meagre supper she'd had was rebelling against her stomach. Well, there was no way in hell she was going to let herself be sick, they had little enough food to go around as it was. She wondered what she looked like. She was glad she'd picked this spot to sleep, in the front room of the house, away from the others.

"Is it my turn for the watch?" Sarah mumbled, trying to wrench herself into the present. She felt annoyed at herself with how weak her voice sounded. She thought she was passed all this crap.

"Yeah, just about," said Carol, and paused, still gazing at her expression.

Sarah avoided her eyes- they were a little too knowing- and got up, grabbing her gear hurriedly. She pulled her boots towards her.

"I was thinking- do you mind if I join you for a while?" asked Carol, voice neutral.

Sarah eyed her, feeling a little hostile. "Why?" she asked bluntly. She was struck by a sudden thought. "... Did Lori say anything to you?"

"No." answered Carol carefully.

Sarah eyed her a little longer, then snorted, bending down to lace up her boots. Well, _that_ was something, at least. _Only a matter of time, though_. And they'd want her gone, then. She told herself she was passed caring. She shrugged, and stalked out of the building. Carol took her silence as permission, and followed her.

Outside, the night air was brisk, and storm-clouds were rolling in, blocking out the stars. It had yet to start raining, but Sarah reckoned it was only a matter of time. She sat down on the rickety lawn chair that they had set up for watches- Carol took the other and pulled it closer, so that they were sitting alongside each other.

Sarah felt annoyed at her presence. In general, she'd had no problem with Carol in the past, and even had a great deal of respect for the woman. Sure, she seemed a bit of a worry-wart, and she could tell Daryl's patience was sometimes stretched by her incessant mothering, but after all she'd been through... she seemed to be finding new strength from somewhere each day. Sarah had heard from T-Dog about how Carol lost her daughter, and how traumatic that had been for everyone, Daryl included. Despite all of this, Sarah was not in the mood to be sympathetic, supportive or have a casual chat. She glanced back at the house, for a few moments vainly wishing Daryl would appear and tell Carol to bugger off and get some rest. She gave a heartfelt sigh, and Carol glanced at her, wondering what the reason could be.

As it happened, Daryl had intended to take the watch with Sarah, and knew Carol had taken the first watch, meaning Sarah would go for the second. He had watched her from the landing at the top of the stairs as she'd tossed and turned in her sleep. He was relieved when Carol eventually came in and woke her. Clearly, her dreams weren't pleasant. They could all sympathise with that.

He watched as Carol spoke in a low voice with her, and then she followed Sarah to join her on the watch. So Carol was actually going to try to talk to her?

He lay back for a few minutes, then gave up trying to relax, and rose, stretching. He felt his spine cracking from trying to cat-nap on wooden floors. At least the wound from the arrow in his side had closed up at last, though he'd have a killer scar. A scar to remind himself of the stupid danger of skittish horses and falling down cliffs with a crossbow.

He trod with light steps down the flight of stairs, and paused at the door, keeping just out of sight. Carol and Sarah were sitting side by side in the deck chairs they'd set out for the watch, just beyond the perimeter fence he'd fixed, and just out of earshot. He pulled back the tattered curtain of the small window next to the doorway, feeling a little guilty for spying. He wouldn't watch them for long- he also needed some sleep. But he wanted to know whether Carol could get anything out of her. That woman was a guilt-trip _machine_- if _she_ couldn't convince Sarah to trust them a little more with her story, he was pretty sure no one could.

Carol chewed her lip, wondering how to start. Sarah looked moody and stubborn, glaring away from her into the darkness, slouching in her chair like a petulant kid. Clearly, she was in no mood for sharing. Well, Carol had been very tactful and considerate to her up until now, but that hadn't yielded any results. Perhaps it was time to change tack.

"I think you're being a little unfair to us..." she stated, in a calm, matter-of-fact voice.

Sarah looked at her incredulously, eyebrows raised. She'd been prepared for some sob story about her dead kid, or maybe a rapid-fire interrogation, but this?

"Unfair?" she repeated, baffled.

"Yup." Affirmed Carol, "Unfair on me, T-Dog... on _Daryl_." She nodded, watching carefully for Sarah's reaction to his name. But the girl had a damn good poker face. "He's worried about you, did you know that?" Carol prodded.

_That_ seemed to elicit a response of sorts. A troubled expression flickered across Sarah's otherwise inscrutable face, but she was shaking her head. "What are you talking about?" she asked flatly.

"I've known Daryl longer than you have," Carol replied, a little condescendingly, "And I'm not blind. He was the one who found you first, the one who is responsible for getting you into the group. And more than that, you seem to have become... friends... since then-"

"We sit watches together. Sometimes." Interrupted Sarah brusquely, "I'd hardly call that _friends_."

"I haven't seen you two miss sitting a watch together once in the last week. Besides tonight." Retorted Carol.

Sarah scowled. "That doesn't mean-"

"To Daryl, it does." Said Carol firmly. "It means a lot. More than you realise. He keeps to himself, and _friendship_... _family_... these are all new concepts to him. He doesn't take it lightly." Her eyes hardened slightly. "And neither should _you_."

Sarah stared at her, a little shocked. Didn't she like the fact that Daryl had trusted a stranger so quickly... or was she jealous of his "attention", which Sarah thought was pretty damn negligible anyway. Word for word, she'd had longer conversations with just about _everyone_ else in the group, maybe excluding Lori. Or was Carol just concerned about Daryl's peace of mind, who was (apparently) concerned about Sarah?

"Daryl is _not_ worried about me." Said Sarah flatly, unable to come up with a better response to the weird direction this conversation had taken. "Why would he be?"

"I am too, frankly." Replied Carol seriously, avoiding a direct answer (she had her suspicions). "Look, we can all see you don't want to talk about your past-" she began, placatingly.

Sarah looked away. "Damn right." She said mulishly.

"I respect your privacy, and I don't ever want to see you put in a situation where you feel you _have_ to justify yourself. We have no right to demand it of you, just because you're new to this group." Carol paused for effect, "_But_," she said, "You might feel better for sharing with us something of what you've been through."

Sarah shifted in her chair, but said nothing.

Carol continued, warming to her argument, "We've all done hard things, seen things we wish we'd never had to witness." _Like Rick shooting the thing that had once been her daughter in front of a barn_. "I'm not asking for your life story. I'm just asking that you start trusting us."

Sarah looked up at this, bristling, "I do trust-"

Carol interrupted her, shaking her head, "No, you don't. Not even close. It's the reason you haven't merged your supplies with the group's, or allowed us to help with your washing. You haven't given Rick your map, though it's a better one than the one he's currently using."

"I know what it takes to survive!" argued Sarah, stung, "I'm just prepared for-"

"Exactly." Said Carol, "That's the problem. You keep waiting for things to go wrong, for this group to be ripped apart, so that you can be alone again. I'm guessing you don't _want_ it to happen...? But you feel it's inevitable, don't you?"

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but unexpectedly felt somewhat conflicted. What she was saying had struck a chord...

Carol noticed her moment of uncertainty, and continued, "I know that your number one concern right now is survival..." Carol said, her voice softer. She reached out an rested a cautious hand on Sarah's shoulder. When Sarah didn't shrug it off immediately, she felt a little more sure of herself, "Believe me, we all want to live. But this group is strong- we've lost people, but I can tell you one hundred percent, that we would all be dead by now out there on our own. We need each other, for survival." Sarah looked from her hand on her shoulder, to her earnest expression, "So when I say we need you to trust us, I mean you need to start thinking of the group as a collective. Once you show us you are committed to being here, for better of worse... no one will question your place." It was obvious she was referring to Lori's reaction earlier that day.

She rose out of the chair, and took her hand away from Sarah's shoulder. "It's your decision whether you want to stay, or if you think you have a better chance going it alone. You can't have both." She left. Sarah watched her walk back into the house, a troubled expression on her face. She sat the rest of the watch alone, mulling it all over.

The next morning, she rose with the sun, as usual, and watched the others troop past her to go and eat breakfast. She delayed joining them, taking extra long to change clothes and check over her stuff.

Eventually, she exited the house, and walked over to where the group was eating a cold breakfast in a loose circle.

She cleared her throat quietly, getting their attention.

Daryl stopped chewing, and regarded her with interest.

She threw two packets of chocolate-chip cookies onto the rickety table they had pulled outside. "I was saving these for a special occasion, but I guess it belongs to the group," she said, somewhat awkwardly. Carol smiled slightly.

Sarah's voice got a little stronger, a little more defiant. "I know everyone doesn't know much about me... and maybe I _have_ been a little too stand-offish. But I've been sensing a little hostility from certain people..." she looked around the group, pointedly ignoring Lori, whose eyes narrowed, "And two days ago, I even caught someone going through my stuff behind my back." T-Dog looked at the ground, shame-faced. The others all looked at him in surprise. Rick and Daryl were frowning.

But Sarah continued speaking before anything else could be said. "I don't want, or deserve, this kind of treatment," said Sarah firmly, "But I'm willing to start over, right now." She took a deep breath. "So ask me whatever you want- I have nothing to hide."

They all looked at her in shock.

"Really?" said Maggie.

"Are you sure...?" asked Glenn at the same time as Maggie.

"Y'don't have t'-" started Daryl.

"No, I really do." Interrupted Sarah. She looked at him seriously, "You all need to know. And then _you_ can choose... whether you still want me around."

Even to her own ears, that sounded quite ominous. She'd never wanted to relive her past again. But as this world kept proving over and over... _You can't always get what you want_.

**Author's note:**

**(that last line, incidentally; straight from Mick Jagger! Turns out Sarah's a fan ;)**

**Sorry to end it on a cliff-hanger! **

**The next chapter will be up tomorrow, it's already pretty much done, I just need to finish tweaking it here and there, and I'm way too tired. It's past midnight in my corner of the globe atm :)**

**Thanks again for the reviews, I love you peeps!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note:**

**As promised, here's the next chapter. It's shorter than the last one, but at least it doesn't end on a ridiculous cliff-hanger! Thanks for the reviews :)**

**CHAPTER 18**

Rick was the first to make a move in the sudden silence. He got up, setting his plate down decisively. "I'm sorry if anyone has made you feel unwelcome in this group," his eyes flickered to Lori, who dropped her gaze, but didn't look contrite, and T-Dog, who seemed really uncomfortable, "Believe me, that was never my intention." Daryl nodded in mute agreement.

"I know." Said Sarah quietly. It seemed like every day she felt she had more and more respect for Rick, as a leader. He wasn't always kind, and he wasn't always warm, but he was always fair.

"That said..." he shook his head slightly, eyebrows raised. His sharp blue eyes held hers. "If you are willing, I'd like to know your story. Where you came from, who y'are."

Sarah nodded, mouth dry. But she'd decided that this was something she needed to do. She cleared her throat, and leaned back against the side of a car. "As you know, I'm South African. When everything happened, I was here on vacation, visiting some varsity friends. I was due to leave the week the airports closed down... But anyway. Long story short... I lost contact with my friends, and joined up with other survivors. Some decided to stay in the city, others fled. I chose to leave, which turned out to be a good decision. The very next day, the whole city went dark, and I don't reckon many made it out after that."

"The first group I was with on the road was quite large. We were several families- kids too. And it was the early days, everyone was fleeing the city, didn't know what was going on. We had an open-doors policy- we took in people we met on the road, no questions asked. We were all so naive, so sure that any day the military would pitch up, and everything would be fine..."

Everyone was quiet, listening to the story that was so similar to their own.

"And things went well with us, for a month or so. I didn't even know how to shoot a gun back then, hadn't ever killed a walker... I relied on the others to look out for me." Her eyes looked past them, into the distance. "There was this one family I became really close with. Good people. They looked out for me, kept me going..." she swallowed.

"So one day, it all went to shit really fast. One moment we were playing at "happy campers", the next, walkers were swarming out of the woods towards us. And it was _total_ panic. Some people were bit, some were fighting back, no one had a plan... and then there was these six guys, guys we'd picked up just a week or so earlier, who went straight over to the vehicles, started the engines. And a few of the women they were fucking went with 'em." She raised her chin, recalling the horror of that day.

"So... People ran towards the cars, looking to escape, but those guys, they... they opened fire. Walkers, men, women, the kids... they shot down everyone, indiscriminately. People they had eaten with, chatted to, just ten minutes ago. They just stood there, cool as anything, six guys and a couple of women, as they murdered about sixty people. There _was_ space on the vehicles for everyone, there was fuel, there was time for people to escape, but they didn't care. Afterwards, they watched for a while as the walkers went for the people dying on the ground, and then they left." Sarah glanced around at the group. Maggie and Beth looked stricken- the others had similar expressions. But no one interrupted her.

She continued, slower than before. Now was the hard part, and the words didn't come as easily. "After the massacre, there was a few of us still standing. By some miracle, I hadn't been shot, and that family I was with... Jane, Sam and Will." She paused a moment, and clenched her fists. "We were okay, but we were trapped on all sides... Sam and Will were brothers, a little older than me. They helped me climb a tree, and then started lifting Jane... that was their mother... she'd insisted I go up first, see? But... But then there was no time... I watched as they- they were all-" her voice trailed off.

She took a while to find her voice again. When she continued, her voice was stronger. "After the walkers had fed, they were a lot slower. I waited for many hours. When they'd stopped moving around so much, I got down from the tree. I found a heavy piece of wood, and I taught myself how to kill walkers for the first time. Trial and error. Took me most of the day. And then, just before nightfall, I heard the cars returning. Those murderers were returning to scavenge the campsite." Her eyes were dark, disgusted. "I didn't know what to do, so I hid and watched them get out and walk around the camp. I remember, they seemed so- so _grateful_ that they had escaped. They were laughing, and I just-" she stopped, and her voice became very matter-of-fact. "I found a gun that had been dropped, and I taught myself how to shoot."

The group stared at her in shock. She nodded seriously. A tear streaked down her face, but her expression wasn't contrite or ashamed. She wiped it away as if it was a nuisance. "I'm not sorry," she said firmly, voice stable, "But if I had taken time to think... maybe things would have been different. But at the time, I couldn't..."

"You've been alone... since then?" asked T-Dog in a hushed voice. What she was saying was still sinking in for the rest. Carol looked at her with new eyes, and resisted the urge to give the poor girl a hug. Though she doubted it would be well received. Sarah was almost as prickly as Daryl.

Sarah shook her head. Her eyes were dry again- her moment of weakness had faded. "Since then I've been with two other groups. The second group didn't last long, made some stupid decisions. They tried to dig in and got trapped. I was the only survivor. After that I travelled with two old folks in their caravan. Lasted two weeks with them. I was alone for a while, but I ran across some campsites as I went." Her gaze flickered to Daryl's face and away. "They weren't very nice..." Rick and Daryl exchanged a glance. They knew very well what had happened.

"Up to three weeks before I met you people, I was travelling with a friend I'd made on the road, but we got separated. Since _then_ I've been alone." She caught Carol's eye. "You can see why I have trust issues." She said wryly. She looked around the group, a little uncertainly. It didn't _seem_ like anyone was clamouring for her leave. Even Lori didn't seem to have anything to say. Yet, at least.

Daryl was watching her with a sidelong glance. When her eyes passed over him, he gave her a small smile. She relaxed visibly. Maggie moved to make space for her on the bench she was sharing with Glenn, and she sat down.

There was a short silence. Daryl rose. "Here," he said, holding out something to Sarah. It was her pocketknife. "Sorry, I kept forgettin' to return it." His casual words broke the tension.

She took it from him. "Thanks." She said quietly, with a warm expression.

Daryl looked away from Sarah's face self-consciously, and nodded at Rick, leaving for the house to start with the day's activities.

Carol watched this exchange with interest, and a bittersweet smile. But she found herself warming to Sarah. She was a complicated girl, but also strong. Tough enough to go it alone... or to swallow her pride and fear and throw in her lot with another group, which in many ways, was a harder choice. She was pretty sure there was something growing between Daryl and Sarah... but equally sure _they_ were oblivious.

She gave a small smile to herself._ Well, if Sarah makes him happy... Worse things could happen._

**Author's note:**

**So, we finally have some background to Daryl's love interest! Do you think the other character's reactions, or lack of reactions, were realistic? I reckon none of them feel that Sarah is a danger to them, even though they may not agree with her decisions in the past. As Rick said the previous day, "That's not how we do things." **

**So Sarah is consciously going through a kind of "re-civilisation" process. She can stop thinking only about the bare essentials of surviving, and "restart her moral compass", as it were.**

**She has realised (and that's basically what Carol was getting at the night before) if she wants to stay with the group, there are certain social norms that need to be adhered to. Like **_**not**_** killing people unless there is a damn good reason.**

**And Carol seems to have noticed the Daryl-Sarah relationship developing, and has given it her blessing, though I reckon she feels a little conflicted about it, hence the "bittersweet" smile. **

**She feels really protective over Daryl (as we saw in the last chapter), so... Will she play matchmaker... or try to break them up (if Sarah isn't "good enough") ?**

**Let me know how you peeps see it!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note:**

**Hello, Daryl/ Reedus fans! It's been over a week since I last posted a chapter, but rest assured, I have not been idle! **

**I've been working on several chapters, so that over Christmas I can still be uploading regularly (unlike most people). A new chapter every third day, right through xmas and New Year!**

**Merry Christmas! (you're welcome :D)**

**Lots of action coming your way, **_**maybe**_** a few cliffhangers... (mwahahaha! *evil smirk*). Enjoy!**

**CHAPTER 19**

"That's quite a story." Rick stated, watching Sarah with his calm, direct gaze. It was after breakfast, and they were standing together over Sarah's map, plotting the route to the potentially life-saving gas station that hopefully wasn't too far from their location at the house.

Sarah nodded, meeting his eyes coolly.

Rick was impressed by her fortitude and maturity. It must have taken a lot of nerve to admit so boldly to the homicide she'd committed. And it was murder - plain and simple, even if, _indirectly,_ it was in self-defence. The sheriff in Rick could not ignore that... But times were different now. If anything, he felt relieved to know that there was another person in the group who was capable of doing what they all knew may be necessary. The others were fighters, but not killers. He didn't think any of them could make that choice... Except Daryl, of course. Daryl was a survivor, a realist... and he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Daryl was most comfortable following his lead, but Rick knew: in a pinch, he would do what was needed.

Survival was not just about instinct or even just working together. Forward planning and the careful calculation of risk was what had got them this far - and a (at times) ruthless willingness to protect the group. Like he had with Shane. Like he had that night in the bar with Glenn and Herschel. This was the world now, and he knew with utter certainty that the last bodies had not hit the ground.

As if reading the grim thoughts in his mind, Sarah looked pensively down at the map, one finger idly tracing the route they were discussing. She looked up again. "There's something else I haven't shared with the group - besides chocolate biscuits," she said, somewhat hesitantly.

Rick raised his eyebrows at her.

Sarah pointed at a small suburb on the map. It was quite a way from where they were, and not quite in the same direction that they'd planned to travel in. "Here," she said, explaining, "Is where I left the old couple I was with last. They had a lot of supplies, communications equipment, gas, oil, an impressive collection of car batteries, a small arsenal of weapons... It's all stashed away in their RV."

"You can't be sure it's all still there... It's a pretty big detour to make." argued Rick, sceptically. If this was such a treasure trove, why hadn't _she_ taken it? And what had happened to the old couple? "More importantly, when were you planning on telling us?"

"I can't be one hundred percent sure it's still there," admitted Sarah reluctantly, "But it's extremely likely, and worth a shot."

"You didn't answer my question." Rick pointed out.

Sarah looked somewhat ashamed. "I've never really had a proper plan, an end-goal, while travelling... But this was my fail-safe; if things were really bad towards Atlanta, it was a relief to know there was a place I could turn back to."

"So you were holding this back, in case you decided to leave us?" summarised Rick, catching on quickly.

Sarah nodded, but met his eyes again. He read only sincerity there. "Look," she said, "I'm laying all my cards on the table here. It's up to you to decide whether you want to pursue this or not. I would've gone back myself, but last time I was there, the place was crawling with walkers. Hopefully it's different now, but even if there are walkers hanging around, with this many people, we could deal with them. And the RV's out of action, but well camouflaged. I would be very surprised if others had found it."

Rick nodded, scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully. "I'll keep it in mind," he said at last, "For now though, we'll keep heading for the farm beyond Greendale, as planned." She nodded, accepting his decision with good grace. Rick looked down again at the map. "Today, we'll have to make a push for these houses, down the road. Scrounge some gas."

He gathered up the map and walked over to the group. Sarah followed him slowly. Most people were sitting around just outside the house, doing the chores and washing after breakfast. Only Beth, Lori and Carl were missing, somewhere in the house.

Rick explained the plan for the day, and then looked around the group, weighing up his options. He had already decided that he would be the one to go; the road was dangerous and he didn't feel comfortable sending out others while he sat around waiting. Another large factor in this decision was that he wanted to get some space from Lori - the atmosphere around her had been suffocating ever since he'd told her about Shane. He had to keep busy - since that night on the farm, his thoughts were apt to turn to darker places if he didn't.

But who to take with? He didn't want to take too many people with him to scavenge for gas- two would be sufficient to carry enough fuel to get the vehicles moving. Then they could drive to the houses, if there was more fuel there. Rick didn't want to endanger more lives than necessary, and two people were less likely to draw attention. Who should he take with? His first instinct was Daryl, but then he'd be leaving the group vulnerable, with Sarah as the most capable member in camp. And she had just admitted to mass homicide an hour ago.

With Shane gone, he had to think carefully about who he could trust most to protect the group in his absence. Rick found himself relying more and more on the taciturn hunter as time went on, and it seemed that Daryl himself had undergone a few changes. He appraised the younger man with fresh eyes. Daryl was leaning against the wall of the house, arms crossed. To the casual observer, he looked quite unapproachable - every inch the ill-mannered outcast. And yet Rick knew better. When Rick had first met him, he'd been not much more than an ignorant, racist redneck, no better than his deadbeat brother. But soon Rick had realised there was more to the hot-tempered hunter than meets the eye. He'd shown a cool head under pressure, and a willingness to prove himself.

With a shock, Rick suddenly realised - if something happened to him, the one he'd want in charge - the one he'd trust to take care of the group - had to be Daryl. He didn't have much skill in leadership or tact... but that was due to inexperience. Given the opportunity, Rick knew he would rise to the occasion.

He glanced at Sarah. "How's your knee? Can you travel?"

Sarah nodded, understanding. "It's healed. I won't slow you down." She went off to gather her things for the trip.

Rick turned back to the group. "Sarah and I will be going - we should be back before dark." He caught Daryl's eye. "Daryl's in charge while I'm away." Rick announced firmly. Daryl frowned slightly and uncrossed his arms, but said nothing. Maggie looked at Glenn, who shrugged. T-Dog traded a look with Carol, who was smiling slightly, as if he wanted to argue, but then stopped with a bemused frown. He'd realised he also had no objections.

After a few last words with the others, Rick also turned to leave. Before he did, he drew Daryl aside quietly. "If somethin' happens," he said seriously in an undertone to Daryl, "You get our people out of here, you don't wait around." He thought of Lori, "No matter what anyone else _wants_ to do, you just get them movin'."

Daryl nodded with a serious expression. To tell the truth, he was a little surprised that Rick would trust him with the group - with his family. "I could go with Sarah, instead of-" he started saying, but Rick interrupted him.

"Nah, this is the way I want it," Rick said firmly. Daryl nodded again, respectful of Rick's decision.

"Good luck." He said gruffly, and walked off. As he left, he touched Rick lightly on the shoulder, a gesture that Rick didn't take for granted. As Daryl walked off, he found himself fervently hoping that he hadn't spoken to Rick for the last time... A lot could happen on the road.

**Author's note:**

**Got some Rickyl in there, ;-) **

**I was originally going to have Sarah and Daryl going on this trip together, but I have a lot of future chapters with just them in it, so in the long-term, this makes sense. Also, Rick is my second fav character, and he hasn't had much face-time yet. So I decided to make this chapter from Rick's point of view, and then why not address the changing group dynamic too? In the 8 month interval between season 2 and 3, Daryl becomes Rick's second-in-command, but that must have been a gradual organic progression.**

**And where was Carl in this chapter? IN THE HOUSE! Haha!**

**New chapter should be up day after Christmas :-)**


	20. Chapter 20: Stand and Fight

**Author's note:**

**I know I said this would be out two days ago, but I decided to change some stuff... so you get this nice, long chapter instead! Enjoy!**

**Theme song for this chapter is:**

**"Heads Will Roll" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**CHAPTER 20: Stand and Fight**

_About 1 pm (5 hours from camp)_

Sarah wiped the sweat from her brow wearily. The sun was hot, beating down from the crystal-clear sky. She could hear birds and the constant infernal racket of the cicadas (or were they crickets? She didn't know much about American insects) and the light crunch of Rick's boots, just ahead of her. They'd been walking at a steady, fast pace for 5 hours straight now, and she'd almost finished her water-bottle already. If she'd been alone, she would have rested in the shade long before now, but of course time was of the essence, and they had to think of the group first. The longer they were away, the more the risk of something unexpected happening. It would have been cooler to walk in the shade of the trees, but the ground was very overgrown in this section, and it would have reduced their speed considerably.

Rick's shirt was just as sweat-soaked as hers, but his vigilance and attention didn't waver. He maintained his speed, walking with sure, long strides, head turning always from side to side, watchful of danger. She was impressed by his focus - she was already bored out of her skull, and almost wished they'd come across a walker just for a break in the monotony. She also wouldn't admit it, but her knee was playing up again, a steady throbbing building up around her kneecap every time she put her weight on it.

She was glad that she'd left the majority of her kit behind - her backpack was slack and light on her shoulders. If they were successful, it would be heavy enough with a canister of gas in it all the way. Rick also had a bag - he would carry the heavier of the two canisters. Other than her water-bottle, she'd taken a lighter, her pocketknife, a small medical kit of bandages, small bottle of surgical spirits, as well as a travelling sewing kit. Just that much could save her life (or Rick's - she doubted he had as much foresight in packing as she did!). If either of them were badly injured and she had to perform emergency first aid, they'd be able to manage. She'd debated whether to bring some food supplies, in case something happened and they unable to return to the group for several days, but then she'd told herself she was being paranoid. She had to trust the group - they wouldn't abandon her and Rick if something happened. Food for herself wasn't as important as returning to the group in one piece as soon as she could.

Other than her basic survival kit, she had her machete-sword strapped in place next to her shield, and her handgun on her belt and ammo in her pocket. With Rick, armed with a machete (shorter in length than hers) and his ever-present gun in its holster at his belt, she felt absolutely confident that they could handle whatever they may encounter, and even felt a strange excitement to be relied on by everyone else - they needed that gas _asap_. It was easy to ignore the pain in her knee while she had a purpose.

Rick looked back at her. "I think we've arrived." He said in a hushed voice. Sarah nodded, grateful the long walk was over at last. Looking past him, she could see the roofs of a few houses and buildings peeping out through the trees.

They crept forward, cautiously. They came to a fence, overgrown with weeds, and looked over, ducking quickly when they saw what was just beyond. Rick cursed quietly - there were about seven walkers wandering around the empty lot in front of the first house, and another dozen beyond, spread out in the road. That they could _see_.

Sarah glanced at him - she seemed unfazed by what they'd just seen, and strangely excited, in some way.

"Did you see all the cars?" she asked in a low tone, voice eager, "Intact too..."

He blinked. "Did you not see all the _walkers_ between the cars and us?"

She shrugged. "That just means there's a greater chance that the cars still have fuel in them." She pointed out.

He felt a little annoyed by her nonchalance, but didn't reply. He took another quick glance through a gap in the fence. "Let's go around, get a better look at them from the other side..."

Sarah and Rick walked cautiously around the houses, hugging the fence. They got as close to the cars as possible- it was basically a parking lot of about ten cars, haphazardly parked between two houses. Perhaps people had tried to park there and take shelter in the houses from the walkers, but had been overrun. The fence ringed the whole line of houses, but in one section a car had been crashed through the sturdy fence, creating a jagged opening for the walkers to creep in. The rest of the story was easy to guess, by the old, dark bloodstains on the ground and walls.

There were a few more walkers shambling around the cars - too many to handle at once. And if they used guns, more would doubtless be drawn out of the buildings and woods... Rick bit his lip. "Twenty-one walkers are too many."

Sarah was watching his expression, and realised - he was unsure of what to do. The walker threat to a group of able-bodied, armed adults with vehicles and the walker threat to one or two people was completely different.

It was fortunate for Rick, then, that she fancied herself somewhat of an expert in the latter.

She drew her machete-sword and laid it flat on her palms in front of Rick. He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

"After I stayed with those old people in the RV, the ones I mentioned before?" He nodded. "Well," she continued, "As I said before, I spent some time travelling with a friend I met on the road. He made me this - he has another, identical to this one."

Rick watched, quiet. The blade truly was a work of art. It was roughly made, but had a single purpose, and he didn't doubt it could do its job. Sarah stuck the blade tip-down into the ground, and took her shield off her backpack, buckling it deftly to her left fore-arm. She was ready for combat.

"We were separated three weeks before I met Daryl, but I know he's still out there, somewhere. He was a little crazy, a little reckless... but also incredibly smart and resourceful. He taught me a lot about how to survive, and _specifically..._ how to handle walkers."

Rick looked sceptical. "You want to try take them out... With just us two?"

She pointed through the fence in the general direction of the walkers with her shielded arm. "Twenty-one are impossible for one or two people to take out... especially if we want to be quiet about it." She agreed, "But that's not our only option. You don't survive on the road by running away. Sometimes, the only choice is to stand and fight. We'll _always_ be outnumbered, Rick."

Rick looked ready to argue again - was this just like that time on the road when they'd met those army guys, and she'd come up with a suicidal plan? Sarah held up one hand, reading his face correctly again, "Just hear me out," she asked calmly. "Please."

He sighed, but nodded. They needed that gas. If her plan was worth a shot...

Sarah seemed relieved he was willing to listen. "Right." She yanked the blade out of the ground again, holding it in her right hand. "The metal is light, but the edge is designed to cut deep with each strike," she explained. "This means that only one strike is needed to break the skull, or chop a head off. The shield can hold off a second walker attacking from the side. If I have enough space to manoeuvre, I am confident I can handle two walkers at once." Rick kept his expression neutral, but looked at her with new eyes. He could tell she was being completely honest - and he was impressed. So this was how she'd survived so long alone?

"Three walkers and things are getting a little hairy," Sarah conceded, "But if I have space to move around, it's not too hard to break up a group of three or four, and deal with each individually." She nodded towards the cars. "There's a space there - enough for me to move. And the cars help, because I can use them for height, get some distance if I'm feeling cornered."

Rick looked at her thoughtfully.

"I can do this." Sarah said, determined.

"You've done it before?" Rick asked, hesitant.

Sarah nodded. "Loads of times. I can't say it's been easy, and I've had some pretty close shaves, but... I'm not alone this time. If we can just control the number of walkers coming at us at one time..."

Rick looked down at his own machete, hanging from a loop in his belt. He'd killed many walkers before, up close and personal, but it was always in the heat of the moment. He'd never actually _planned_ to attack them... he gritted his teeth. They needed that gas. He would do anything for his family, and right now... all he had to do was kill twenty-one walkers.

"Alright," he said at last, "But let's be smart about this..."

_5 minutes later... (1:17 pm)_

They jumped the fence a little further along, careful not to make any noise, and the approached the area where the cars were. Glancing around the first vehicle, they were only metres away from the first walker.

Sarah crept forward, using the cars as cover, Rick just behind her. She glanced around - the five walkers milling around the cars were their first target. Beyond them was the car that had driven through the fence, and there was a sizeable gap were the fence had been torn down just next to it. Through it she could see some of the other walkers that they would have to deal with too. She glanced back at Rick - he nodded. His face was a little pale, but his jaw was set, and the hand on the handle of his machete was steady. She took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly, feeling her body go still, as it always did before a fight. Then she broke cover.

Travelling at a fast run, still in a crouch, she took the first walker by surprise, slashing it across the face. It dropped like a stone. As quiet as she could, she spun around to face the next closest walker, dispatching that one with a lightning fast strike to its throat. Now there were three left, and they moved in a tight group, reaching for her, mouths agape and groaning. In the road beyond, the walkers stopped, turning their heads slowly towards the source of the muffled noises.

She stepped towards the three lightly (the adrenaline making the pain in her knee all but disappear) and grabbed the outstretched arm of one, yanking it towards her. At the last minute, she side-stepped and let go - the walker sprawled onto the ground heavily behind her, where Rick was waiting. He made short work of it before it could rise again, but Sarah didn't have time to watch. She was set upon by the remaining two walkers. They were very close - she avoided the grasp of one by crouching suddenly, and slashed its legs, sending it to the ground, while the other's jaws snapped uselessly against the metal surface of her shield. With an effort, she bashed the walker's head back with the edge of the shield, giving herself an opening to swing her blade again, burying it in the walker's rotten skull. She turned her body and yanked it loose, and with the same downward movement she decapitated the walker snapping at her ankles.

Rick watched this with wide eyes - she'd dispatched four walkers in no time at all, alone. But they had no time to congratulate themselves. Rick ran past her, to the gap in the fence. The other walkers had become aware of their presence, and were swiftly converging on them. As they planned, Sarah and Rick pulled broken fence slats and other debris to narrow the gap. Then Rick stood at the make-shift barricade, slightly to the side, and waited. The first group of walkers appeared, and stopped, impeded by the narrow gap, pushing each other. Rick used a broken piece of plank and knocked two of them back - the other three broke through and went straight for Sarah, who stood purposefully in plain sight. She stepped back, drawing them further in, then quickly scrambled onto the hood of the car, the extra height giving her enough time to take them down, one after the other, with three well-placed strikes.

Rick dispatched two walkers using the plank as a club, but more and more were now streaming through the gap, threatening to overwhelm him. Sarah jumped from the roof of the car to the ground, jarring her knee. "Oi!" she said loudly, not wanting to risk a shout just yet. It worked- a few peeled off from the group and headed for her, but Rick was still struggling.

Too late he realised that he'd let himself get cornered - he was trapped with the wall of the house on one side and the fence on the other. He dropped the plank - the walkers were too close now, and drew his machete, but the blade was shorter than Sarah's, and not as sharp. He evaded the hands of two walkers and tackled another, using his own weight to bury the blade in one of its eyes. Now on the ground, he tucked his shoulder and rolled away out of their grasp. He leapt to his feet just behind one of the other walkers. Now he wasn't cornered anymore, and had only air at his back. Sarah's diversion tactics were working well - he could hear her leaping about on the cars behind him. As the walker turned, he grabbed it by the shoulder and hacked at its neck with the machete in his other hand, until it too fell lifeless to the ground. After that, he had nerve-wracking grappling match with the other walker, but that ultimately also ended with it in pieces on the ground.

Panting, Rick spun around, ready to fight again, but was met with a surprising sight.

Sarah hopped calmly down from the roof of a car, wincing slightly as she jarred her knee again. She crouched and casually wiped the blade of her machete-sword on the shirt of one of the corpses at her feet. All of the fallen walkers had formed a small mountain of bodies against the side of one of the cars. She'd killed them all. The only sound to break the sudden silence was the cheerful song of birds and insects.

_5 hours later... About 7pm_

"I think we're almost there." Said Rick from just behind Sarah.

She nodded grimly, and adjusted her pack on her shoulders. The gas canisters were full, and heavy on their backs.

He watched her sympathetically - her limp had worsened considerably in the past few hours. He'd let her lead, setting the pace for the return trip, but she hadn't slackened off one bit, despite the pain she was obviously in. He would have urged her to take a break before this, but he was anxious to get back. They'd made good time, but it was almost dark. As if hearing his thoughts, Sarah picked up the pace.

"I'm glad you came with me." Rick said suddenly, and meant it.

"Thanks." Replied Sarah, touched. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

He'd originally picked her because she had travelled the area before, and he thought it would be good for her to have some distance from the group. And just maybe, a little, he hadn't trusted her enough to leave her with the others. But more than her walker-killing skills, she'd impressed him by showing her loyalty and dedication to the group. Today, she'd truly earned her place with them... He now knew; whatever may come, she would have his back.

Rick opened his mouth to say something else, but suddenly their conversation was interrupted by a loud, distant sound that struck fear into their hearts. There was no question - it came from up ahead - the direction of their camp.

Sarah spun around and looked at Rick in shock - his expression mirrored hers. Was that _gunfire_? The chilling rattle of gunfire broke through the peace of the early evening air. Without a word, their weariness and the load on their backs forgotten, they broke into a fast sprint, dreading what they may find...

**Author's note:**

**As always, please review! :D**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note:**

**I've been sick this last week... anyway, Happy New Year!**

**Enjoy the new chapter *coughs weakly***

**CHAPTER 21**

_Roughly 5pm that day..._

As Rick and Daryl had discussed, the group at camp were busy preparing for more long days on the road. Inventory was being taken inside the house, clothes were washed and repaired. Lori supervised inside, while outside Glenn and T-Dog packed the cars with their most important kit, ready for Rick's return... or any crisis they may face.

Daryl gnawed his lip worriedly as he bent to re-string his crossbow. He'd just taken out the third walker to have emerged from the trees since morning, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. When they'd first arrived, the place had been deserted, but already they somehow seemed drawn to the house. Must be smell, he mused to himself. Perhaps the walkers had extra-sensitive noses - all of their other senses seemed dull enough. It wasn't like they'd been making any noise.

Besides the walkers, there was something else that was bothering Daryl. More than anything, it was a feeling, an instinctive paranoia, that something bad was going to happen. It was like an itch in the back of his mind, telling him they should be on the move again.

Crossbow primed, Daryl hefted it to shoulder-height and resumed his patrol. He'd taken over from Carl, who he'd instructed to watch the back of the house from the second storey instead (much to Carl's disappointment). He was the man in charge in camp, but also their best defence. He maintained the same distance around the house, never straying more than 50 metres away. He needed to be within earshot of the group, but also far enough to watch for imminent danger.

They needed supplies, they needed fresh food - meat, for some real energy, but he didn't have the time now to hunt. And they needed firewood, and water... there was a creek nearby, but it wasn't close enough for people to go to and fro from in safety. After they'd gone down in a group that morning to fill containers, he'd told everyone to stick to camp and make do with what they had. In his opinion, this camp was a dead end, and if he had his way they'd be leaving it as soon as they were able. He hoped Rick and Sarah would have luck and find some gas, and return soon.

Daryl felt a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and turned to look behind him sharply. He had good instincts, and this unsettling feeling that he was being watched persisted, though he saw nothing. He turned and walked slowly back the way he'd come, towards the road, watchful for anything out of the ordinary.

But the woods were quiet. Too quiet? It was hard to tell. He turned and headed back for the house, keeping the far trees near the road in his peripheral vision. There- a flash of movement!

He resisted the urge to turn and look directly in that direction, and instead continued back towards the house, as if nothing had alerted him. But inside, he was hyper-aware and extra tense - walkers didn't stalk their prey. Humans did.

Without showing the concern on his face, he got T-Dog and Glenn's attention and jerked his head towards the house. They followed him, concern etched on their faces. Once indoors, Daryl shut the front door, then called up to Carol, who he could see folding laundry at the top of the stairs.

"Carol, is everyone up there? No one's outside?"

Carol stiffened at the urgency in his voice. She dropped what she was doing and came forward, worried. Seeing Glenn and T-Dog, she nodded. "Everyone's here-"

"What's goin' on?" asked Glenn nervously. "Is it walkers?"

"Don' think so," said Daryl unhelpfully. He went over to the front window and peered around a curtain, careful not to disturb the material and betray their suspicion. Satisfied everyone was indoors, and not seeing anything moving outside - yet, at least - Daryl glanced back at the group. The others - Herschel, Lori, Carl, Maggie and Beth - had emerged to see what all the fuss was about.

"Well, what is it then?" asked T-Dog, annoyed, as Daryl resumed his vigil at the window.

Without turning, he replied almost absently, "We're bein' watched."

"_What_?" said Maggie sharply.

"Are you sure?" demanded Lori, at the same time.

Daryl nodded calmly. "I din' see who it was, but they're out there..." He looked like he was distracted, or didn't really care, but inside his mind was working at lightning speed, going through their options, considering each carefully.

The others were, predictably, not taking this latest development well. Lori's eyes flew to Carl and she began lecturing him about staying close to her, while Herschel suggested in his calm way that they sit tight and see what happens. Glenn was unwilling to argue with the older man, but could foresee some complications...

"What if Rick and Sarah run into whoever it is on their way back?" he pointed out, "We need to know who it is."

"They could have this place surrounded by now." Added Carol fretfully.

"Or it could just be some loner peekin' through the trees?" joked T-Dog, sounding more hopeful than he felt.

"You want to take that chance?" Lori said, uptight as usual.

"We can't risk goin' out to meet them..." Herschel mused.

"Well, we can't just sit here." Lori said loudly.

Somehow, they all ended up looking towards Daryl. He crossed his arms. "Everyone stays in the house. Close the doors an' keep away from the windows." He said, quiet but firm. "I'm goin' out, see what I can see..." he saw Carol frown, about to argue, "No point panickin' over nuthin'." He said firmly. With an effort, Carol swallowed her arguments. The others fell silent, worried but accepting of his decision.

He picked up his crossbow again. "How's everyone on weapons?" he asked them.

Glenn spoke up "Everyone should have a weapon and ammo on them..." there were nods all around. "Rick put all the extras in a bag and stashed them under the truck." Glenn added.

Daryl nodded - he'd seen Rick doing that, and understood the reasoning. If walkers attacked in a large group, there may not be time to go to the house to get guns and ammo. With that in mind, it had made sense at the time to stash the extra guns behind the front wheel of the blue truck, which happened to stand furthest from the house, in the middle-ground between the house and the road beyond. That logic was working against them now, but at least they weren't entirely defenceless. If he could, he would try to get the weapons. But first he wanted to find out exactly who they were up against.

Without further ado, Daryl exited the house through the back door, and ran into the tree-line, using the woods as cover. He crept in a wide arc towards the road, towards where he had seen the flash of movement.

Eyes flicking over the ground, he read the signs of the watcher. Broken twigs, bruised green leaves, and clear imprints on boots in the soft ground - two men had watched from here. One had been smoking a cigarette; the ash was visible, and even a faint scent of smoke hung on the air. They must have just left.

Every nerve-end on high alert, Daryl stalked closer, treading lightly as only a hunter could, making barely a rustle even though there were dead leaves underfoot.

Soon, he heard hushed voices, and then, the watchers came within sight.

Daryl's eyes narrowed. It was the army group from before, armed to the teeth and gathered close in a loose group in front of their vehicles, half in the road, half off. A large black bag lay on the ground in the middle of the circle of men. Were they preparing to attack?

He sidled closer, to hear their conversation.

"... You think these people have somethin' t'do with Mason and his gang runnin' off?" one man with a pinched face, wearing a bandana, was speaking in a nasal voice. He was addressing a man Daryl immediately assumed was their leader; he was standing at the centre of the group, and the others were looking to him for instructions. Daryl judged him to be early fifties, but he was a powerfully built man, fit and lean, with grey, short-cropped hair and an arrogantly handsome face.

"Almost certainly," he replied, voice clipped and educated.

Another man, lanky and sallow-skinned, nodded sombrely. "That jeep didn't just appear from _nowhere_." He drawled slowly, "It's Mason alright. There's no one else around."

"We'll find out, one way or another," said their leader. He raised his gun meaningfully into the air. The tall man bent and unzipped the duffel bag, and started handing out assault rifles and other weapons to the others. Their intent was clear.

So leaving the jeep behind had turned out to be a bad idea, after all. It was a costly mistake on Rick's part. They had hidden the jeep off the side of the road, but evidently not well enough... now these guys had come looking for their comrades, and the first people they came across were immediate suspects.

Daryl felt a wave of white-hot anger sweeping through him - who the hell did they think they were? After everything his group had gone through, now they'd be shot to bits by some trigger-happy military assholes?

So what now? He had to warn the group, form a strategy...

Even as Daryl was turning all of this in his mind, he was backing away carefully, cautious of being seen or heard. Suddenly, in his peripheral vision, he saw a flash of movement - someone was coming through the trees towards him!

The man, evidently a scout for the larger group, was just as taken aback as Daryl as they abruptly came face-to-face. The man froze, surprise etched on his face, and opened his mouth to call a warning to his group.

But even though Daryl had just as little time to react as the other man, his reflexes were faster. In one fluid movement, he raised his already-loaded crossbow to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The man dropped to the ground, clawing at the bolt which had suddenly sprouted from his throat.

Daryl didn't give himself time to think about the murder he'd just committed. Though the kill had been virtually silent, he was metres away from the other men. Mouth dry, heart hammering, he set off at a fast half-run, weaving through the trees, heading back towards the house.

Behind him, he heard raised voices as his handiwork was quickly discovered.

He skidded to a halt at the edge of the trees - across a short expanse of open ground, was the blue truck, and the concealed weapons. He had no doubt they'd need it now. He hesitated- should he risk going for it? He'd be horribly exposed.

Even as he considered making the dash, he was answered almost instantaneously. Gunfire erupted behind him - he dropped into a low crouch as a wild spray of bullets ripped through the foliage around him. Not knowing where the enemy was, the men were shooting randomly in the hopes of hitting something.

This was stupid on a whole other level. Now even if they survived an attack from _humans_, walkers would be drawn to this place for miles around from the noise.

He cursed, and checked how much ammo he had for his gun. Not enough - but maybe he could give the others time to get away... Rick had told him they had to leave if something happened. But how far could they get, on foot and in the dark? It seemed he had another big decision to make.

Glenn and the others were waiting for him with anxious expressions as he arrived back, panting. "Everyone back from the windows!" he snapped. He got them all into the kitchen, which was the room furthest from the front of the house. He yanked Carol, who was last through the doorway, to the side, out of direct line from the windows. Seconds later, glass shattered as a rattle of gunfire raked across the facade of the house, prompting muffled screams from Beth and Maggie. He glanced around quickly - they were all there.

"Daryl, who-" Glenn started asking loudly.

"Bunch o' army assholes, same ones we saw yesterday," explained Daryl rapidly. "Not sure what they want, but it sure ain't t'welcome us t'the neighbourhood." Everyone flinched as another round of bullets sprayed across the house.

"What are we waitin' for - we have to leave, now!" said T-Dog urgently.

Glenn shook his head. "It's crawling with walkers out there... it's almost dark," he said, "We wouldn't make it far on foot."

Daryl nodded, impressed by his logic. It was the same conclusion he'd come to.

"If we can hold them off for a while," said Maggie desperately, looking from Glenn to the others, "Maybe Rick and Sarah will get back... or if there are walkers- we'll be safer in here?"

Glenn nodded eagerly, "Then I'll go upstairs, see if I can pick some of 'em off." He glanced at Daryl, who gave a ghost of a nod. Glenn turned to T-Dog, "T, you with me?"

T-Dog rubbed his face, "Oh, man..." he shook his head, but then said, "Yeah... yeah, let's just do it."

Maggie stepped forward with a mulish expression. "I'm coming up too." She announced. Glenn frowned and began to argue.

Leaving them to it, Daryl collected Carol's extra ammo without speaking, and made for the back door again.

"What are you going to do?" called Herschel, watching the younger man anxiously.

Daryl glanced back and shrugged. "Someone's gotta make sure they don't come 'round this side. I'll keep 'em from surroundin' us." With that, he closed the door behind him with a decisive snap.

_Meanwhile..._

Sarah and Rick were crouched in the tree-line, conferring in whispers what their options were, as they watched the larger group of men approaching the house cautiously.

The house seemed quiet now, but Rick and Sarah had arrived in time to see the muzzle-flashes from the top windows of the house as their people returned fire, picking their shots. Each time they fired, the military guys below would pepper the upper storeys with gunfire. They had ammunition to burn and they weren't skimping.

Rick wasn't sure what had happened, or if everyone was safe inside the house, but he knew at least _some_ of them were. And he also knew that they were pinned down.

"Weapons?" Sarah asked.

"Half in the house, but some hidden under the truck." Answered Rick grimly. "We'll have a chance if we can get to 'em..." he bit his lip, weighing up options.

"You go for it, I'll distract them from here," Sarah offered.

Rick hesitated, but he knew it was the only plan they had. Their only hope against superior numbers and firepower was the element of surprise. But he also knew it may mean sending her to an early death. The group was approaching the house - there were about twenty men in total. They were using two of their own vehicles to get closer, hanging out the sides of the cars to fire, then ducking back inside as Rick's group retaliated. The two cars came to a halt just in front of Rick's red hatchback. It was parked directly in front of the house, parallel to the face of the house. The blue truck was a little further off to the side. Some of the men jumped out of their vehicles and crouched behind the red hatchback, using it as cover, while the others turned to watch the trees for any signs of movement. It was getting dark fast now, but even so... It would be impossible to get to the blue truck without being seen. Unless there was a significant distraction, and whoever made the dash was _very_ quick.

"Go - I won't be fast enough." She argued, nodding at her knee. The joint was inflamed and painful from the day's walking.

He looked at her face, pale but determined. She wasn't afraid. He nodded slowly, and took her arm. He compared the time on her scratched watch to the time on his. "Wait five minutes," he said, "Then I'll be in place. Keep firin' until you have nothing left, and then run for it - I'll cover you."

Sarah nodded, jaw clenched. "Don't be late." She said, not sounding quite as confident as she would have liked. But she'd made a promise to herself that she would stick with this group. For better... or worse.

Rick squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, giving her a tight smile. She suddenly looked very young and alone, but he couldn't afford to go soft now. After one last look, he left her, moving quickly through the woods in a broad arc which would take him around the back of the house, to the other side of the clearing, where he'd be able to make a dash for the truck.

Sarah, one eye on her watch, crept closer through the trees towards the men.

She drew her handgun and checked the clip, movements slow to avoid making noise. She had ten rounds, and a box half-full of ammo in her pocket. She switched the safety off, and waited, back pressed up against a broad tree. She watched the two groups exchanging fire, wincing every time the enemy fired on the front of the house. It must feel like a warzone in there. Good thing the house was made of brick, not wood, like most houses in Georgia seemed to be.

She shifted, watching the seconds tick down to the 5 minute mark, hopefully giving Rick enough time to get in place on the other side of the house. He would be exposed in the short dash to the vehicles, but once he was there he would be out of sight of the men on the driveway, but within sight of the windows of the house. Hopefully the rest of the group were watching, and still had some ammo to cover him. Then they could attack from _three_ sides, and hopefully drive them off for good.

_Ten... nine... eight..._

Surely Rick must be in place by now? Sarah took three deep breaths, willing the tremors in her hands to quiet. She stepped around the tree, swinging her gun up to shoulder-height as she did so, and opened fire, picking her shots to draw the most attention from the men around the vehicles, forcing them to duck. She fired until there were no rounds left, then ducked back behind the tree, reloading as quickly as she could.

She'd hit a couple of them, but also betrayed her position. She could hear the shouts of the men as they turned towards this new threat. Leaves and dirt kicked up around her hiding spot as they fired back. She waited for a gap in the firing, then swung out again, firing until she'd emptied her clip.

Now she had nothing left to defend herself. If the plan had worked, Rick should already have the bag of weapons, and in the next few seconds, _surely_, he would open fire, giving her a chance to escape...

She _really_ hoped Rick wasn't delayed.


End file.
